The Memorial of a Black Lily
by iamalittleLeStrange
Summary: I grew up in a world you will never know, but on some level I think you will understand. My life took a turn for the better when I was sent back in time after my parents' death you can imagine how surprised I was to see them and the man I love. Alive. Even as I write this during the Dark Lord's reign of terror I am fighting, and this is my story.
1. Foreword Counting Your Bodies Like Sheep

** Foreword  
>Counting Your Bodies Like Sheep<strong>

When I Am: _almost defiantly, sometime, possibly, after March of 2023.  
><em>Who Am I: _they took all my fake ID's before the trial, MYSELF.  
><em>What Song Am I: _don't fret precious i'm here step away from the window go back to sleep, go back to sleep, i'll be the one to protect you from your enemies and your choices daughter, they're one in the same, i must isolate you, isolate and save you from yourself . . . _-A Perfect Circle: Counting Bodies Like Sheep

_Don't you ever feel like no matter how fast you _run_, how loud you _scream_, how much you _bleed_, nobody can reach you? I know i do, and i assume many of you, like myself know what it is like to be completely invisible. Sometimes (even though i don't want to) i wonder if they just don't see me, or if they don't want to see me. LOOK AT ME, I AM RIGHT HERE!_

Farther and Mother carry my limp body to the car, I would've probably have lost my nerve and run the other way if they'd given me the chance to do it myself, but I don't get that option, after all I'm drugged, paralyzed and semi-transparent.

I stare numbly out the window at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place and I'm unable to turn my face away from the sight of a puffy eyed Kreacher bashing his head repeatedly on the front door, and I can't block it out, any of it really no matter how hard I try. Farther mutely starts the engine, Mother's crying in a way that always breaks my heart, after all, nine times out of ten I'm the reason, and she's too busy to put on her seat belt as we exit the car park, leaving the house behind.

I slip in and out of conscious as we drive, and it's almost peaceful, like a game of let's pretend.

My head rolls and I see we're already skipping through traffic onto the freeway, sluggishly I catch Father's dark green eyes in the rear view mirror, boring into my general direction as if he can see me, and asking a question I don't want to answer, he turns his head of messy black hair back to the road and I slip out again.

My whole body's asleep when suddenly my left hand feels like it's the only part of me awake and I can feel the heavy weight of my many rings, the humid air teasing my finger tips and the sweat condensing on the base of my palm.

The car speeds up and the wind flies by in time with the voice inside my head, _'forgive me for intruding on your life like this Cherry Bomb, but you must get out of this car.'_

The pet name he calls me stings more than any other, and again I am thankful for the drugs, it's so easy not to care when you are this relaxed. I watch dimly aware of the road lines that are wising by and if I'd the ability I'd ask _why_, but I can't do even that, and I defiantly can't leave a moving vehicle. Jacob used to call me Cherry Bomb. I can't leave.

Vaguely, I realize we're going way over the speed limit when He speaks again, '_Too drugged up? Well I will just have to help you out myself then.'_

Even though there's nothing to see I feel ice cold hands all over my body, groping me like an overly friendly Acromantula with it's to many legs, and He lifts me up from the car seat as a power greater than transfiguration allows me and the messenger bag in my lap to pass through the trunk, and I regain my senses enough to feel the two presences at my side and the sun shining through my body.

I only feel vaguely shocked as the car drives off the road and crashes into a power line, but my feelings soon rise up like bile in my throat as the power line snaps and falls onto the car with a spark.

'_Now would you look at that,' _His voice's music to my ears, _'Lucky you were not inside.'_

I feel as if a wave of ice cold water has been poured over my head giving me back control of my body, and I run full force towards the car as flames flicker behind its windows, and in my panic I trip on a rock and land head over shoulders on the ground with a thud. I get up and try to clear my vision, but as I do the car explodes into an angry ball of fire that smoke billows from powerfully.

Even though I don't want them to the words tear themselves from my lips like my fingertips tear into the ground, "Dad! Mom?"

I tackle Him when He comes and drops my messenger bag besides me and I seize His silky black robes in my fists, "Why? Why did ya do this?' I hiss through gritted teeth.

His blue eyes are like glaciers, ancient and cold as they look down on me unemotionally, they're absent of His usual mocking glare, and at odds with His voice, "Whatever do you mean Cherry Bomb? I only saved your life."

"That wouldn't have killed me and ya know it!"

"You are ever so ungrateful."

"Ungrateful!" I burrow my head in His long snow white hair and start to cry, "They're my parents!"

"They _were_ your parents and they were going to stick you in a mental institute," I cry harder, "I would have saved them if I could Cherry Bomb, but I cannot."

I look up at Him, I want to tear out the blue veins that shine faintly beneath His transparent skin till they gush blood redder than my hair, "Ya can do it! I know ya can!"

He cuts me off, "Sorry Cherry Bomb, I cannot do it," He cups my chin in his hand, causing His long silver nails to brush up against my skin and I refuse to flinch, "But _you_ can."

I look at Him dumbfound, '_How could ya even think . . . I'd never do that to them!'_

He sees my expression and laughs lightly as if I'm not getting the joke, "Not like that!"

"Then like what?" I whisper harshly.

"Like-" He teases the word with his tongue and wipes away my tears, "-Say you were able to go back . . . a certain amount of time," He smirks devilishly, "In which time you could save them," showing off His white teeth, pointy like a shark's as He pulls me to my feet, "It is all about connections Sugar."

I give Him a suspicious look as He takes out a mobile and starts hitting buttons, "Why're ya doing this?"

The wind howls even more wildly and spreads the fire and its heat, but I know He hears me. He pretends to look offended as my body gains more color.

"What, is it illegal now to lend out a helping hand?" I glare at Him as the dust on the road picks up and spins around my heels, "Lily Luna Potter, I hate to be the one to break it to Cherry Bomb but you are going to die." He says it abruptly, like this' news.

It's hard to tell because the sand storm around me is now so fierce, but my body's become fully visible.

"It could be tomorrow, it could be in ten years, I honestly do not know, I just want you to make the most of the time you have left." His words fill the void of disbelieving silence.

"Look Cherry Bomb, this is a once and a lifetime opportunity, do you want me to do it, or not?"

"Yes. Do it, bring them back," I don't think before answering Him, and I probably should've.

_Here's a tip for anyone who's reading this who should really just bugger off and mind their own bloody business; Never make a deal with the devil. He does have ulterior motives, even if i haven't figured out what they are . . . Yet._

"But _why_?"

"Because I want you to be happy. Go back, be unafraid to do the normal teenage things you were never able to make friends, fall in love, find something you believe in, then fight for it," wow, is that ever a load of shit.

His blue eyes are the only thing I can still see clearly, "But know when you are done I will be waiting for you on the other side."

He bends down and kisses me lightly on the cheek despite my disgust before drawing back, "After all you are made for me," He says as if this explains His reasons for everything. Before I can say more we're swallowed by the sands of time.

_I remember how when i closed my eyes to the whipping wind and numeric chanting in the distance, i thought back on all the mistakes i'd made in my short life, and i wondered how far back i'd be sent to fix them. Would it be before i committed the unforgivable? Before i was expelled? Before Scorp was attacked? Before i told capital H-I-M. that i loved him (always)? Before my family fell apart and when had that happened?_

_Do you want me to tell you i went back, even if it was just a month and used my future knowledge to put the broken pieces of my life back together again? I fantasized three-hundred-and-ninety-four different realities, ones where Farther and Mother would look at each other with smiles in their eyes, and where Al didn't have to hide who he was, and where my older brother who's name will go un-written treated me in the way only a protective/annoying big bro could. I need you to understand if it had meant i'd to settle for a hideous white picket fence to make my family love me again i would've done it in an (undead)-heartbeat._

_Yeah, that is so not what happened, because life is never that easy._

** time to get down with it, SH  
>Black Lily<strong>

1) to explain the format of this fanfic; I believe because I can that by 2023 texting and Facebook will have eroded all grammar skills in our future children, and journals, if they still exist on paper, will be written in blog form, being as Lily is the main character in her own story her parts will be in first person, present tense and with the extensive use of AND, Google tells me that SH is an abbreviation for Shit Happens.

2) Lily's nickname Cherry Bomb is in reference to the song of the same name by The Runaways.

3) Acromantula such as Hagrid's beast Aragon, are giant spiders with a leg span of up to fifteen feet, a poisonous bite and the tendency to eat people. See Fantastic Beast and Where to Find Them or online at Harry Potter Lexicon.

4) _Capital H-I-M_ is in reference to Lady GaGa's song Born This Way: _Who is 'Him' and, more importantly who is capital H-I-M? At first glance, 'Him' can be interpreted as a masculine lover, in accordance with the 'gay pride' aspect of the song. In that case, who or what is 'capital H-I-M'? Is it God? In that is she referring to the distance between homosexuality and traditional religions? In this context, is Gaga saying '___It doesn't matter if you love him (God), or capital H-I-M (Satan)___?' If that is the case, it would certainly fit with the dualistic, good versus evil message_ . . . -The Illuminati Manifesto

_5) I fantasized three-hundred-and-ninety-four different realities, _is a reference to one of my favourite Snape scene's in The Prisoner of Azkaban, in which Snape attempts to revile Professor Lupin's secret identity as a werewolf, and if you tun to page 394 in the German edition it is also where Snape enters the Shrieking Shack.

I do not own Harry Potter property of J. K. Rowling, Scholastic Bloomsbury, or Warner Brothers and any other connected industries.  
>THIS FANFIC IS NOT ADOPTED! I have recently changed my pen name from Flika StrawBerry to Shade Blackberry do to personal reasons, and I am re-editing my works including <span>The Memorial of a Black Lily<span> previously known as Once Dead Twice Shy and I do hope you like the new writing style. Unfortunately my other piece The Teachings of Time will not be updated till I am finished sorting out my sexuality, sorry for the wait, the confusion and thank you for reading, please review.


	2. Entry One: Breakaway

** Entry One  
>Breakaway<strong>

When I Am: _why don't you tell me, i'm the time traveller, remember?  
><em>Where I Am: _please see the former.  
><em>Who Am I: _like I'd really tell you, i really don't feel like dealing with the consequences of my actions right now thanks.  
><em>What Song Am I: _trying hard to reach out but when i tried to speak out felt like no one could hear me, wanted to belong here but something felt so wrong here, So i pray, i could breakaway, i'll spread my wings and i'll learn how to fly i'll do what it takes till I touch the sky, out of the darkness and into the sun but i won't forget all the ones that i love, i'll take a risk take a chance make a change, and breakaway_ . . . -Kelly Clarkson: Breakaway

**Severus' beautiful and bloody-brilliant hypothetically/momentarily un-'O****cclude****d' mind**

"The only one against whom I intend to work is Lord Voldemort, if you are against him then we remain on the same side."

"He can't be back Dumbledore he just can't be . . ."

He gridded his teeth in silence at the white hot agony that was his left arm combined with the blind stupidity of some people as he watched the Minister of Magic give the Potter Boy his winnings for the Triwizard Tournament before he exited the hospital wing.

_~"He does not need protection. The Dark Lord has gone._

_Lord Voldemort will return."~_

"There is work to be done," announced Albus as he told Molly and her oldest son Bill to bring the more open minded people from the ministry onto their side discretely. He watched as his colleague Minerva went to fetch Hagrid and Madame Maxime.

Severus tensed in anticipation of what he would no doubt soon be told to do as Poppy followed to look after a house elf of all things, he thought nothing of the subtle air shift as the double doors slammed shut behind her.

Albus looked as if he was going to say something as Poppy's footsteps faded away, but was interrupted when something happened, the universe _sneezed_. He resented resorting to such childish terms, but that was the only way to explain it.

It was like a magnetic pull that drew all inanimate objects to the centre arch in the ceiling, sand fell from the shaking rafters, the walls and the cupboards built into them tried to cave in on themselves, groaning under the pressure, the sound was joined by similar cries of confusion.

He grounded himself as several sick beds where raised a dozen feet off the ground. The people themselves seemed unaffected, Molly and the Golden Trio fought to keep the Potter Boy's bed down and that bloody dog growled, to no effect than to further his own irritation. Vaguely, he wondered why Albus had let such an incantatory beast into the hospital wing in the first place.

He glanced through his black hair at the older man who mumbled incantations under his breath to try and identify _this,_ suddenly as it had started it stopped; the beds landed back in their proper places, the windows stopped rattling and so did the walls.

Ruffled but alert, the group watched as a bag fell from the ceiling. He searched, determined to find the portal or whatever _this_ was when the bag was followed by a person. His chest clenched as it always did when he noticed that exact shade of deep dark red.

Everyone who saw moved back, not knowing what would happen when the person touched the ground. He did not move, he had to know. He noticed that the person was a girl when she landed so ungracefully, "Son of a dead puppy that hurt like hell!" she sweared as her feet gave out beneath her.

Without a moment's thought or hesitation he reached out and grabbed her hand before she hit the ground, pulling her back up, she managed to steady herself before she made a very messy head bunt, one that would only come up to her chin, she was quite a bit shorter than his six foot one.

An awkward silence filled the room, no one believed their eyes, The Greasy Git giving a helping hand out of the kindness of his shrivelled black heart, things like this just did not happen. It was in that silence that his brain processed what it was he had done, _'What devil possessed me to commit such an act?'_

Instead of catching her hand why had he not transmuted the ground into something softer? Or levitated her so she did not fall? Why had he reached out with his hand to protect her personally? Why did try to protect her at all?

Albus let out a polite cough and he turned his head to ask silently for advice on what to do, but all he accomplished was brushing up against her hair, it smelled faintly of, strawberries, _'Just where has my brain disappeared to this evening?'_

He realized he was still holding her hand between them, then she realized it to. Her eyes flickered to his dark mark to his face and back to the ugly mark on his arm which seemed to be beckoning them like a beacon_, 'Why have I yet to conceal that which declares me a highly dangerous ex-convect?'_

She suddenly let go and made a very girlish very high pitched scream. The others took this as their cue to unfreeze, about time.

Albus moved to his side, the Golden Trio closed the hangings around the Potter Boy's bed cutting him off from view, the dog sat, the ever protective Molly guarded the door her wand raised like a sword.

He pulled the sleeve of his robes back down and towered over the girl like an over grown bat, back in his own element he gave her his most menacing glare.

"Now child, since you have so dramatically caught our attention why do you not tell us your name?" The demand that rolled off the tip of his tongue caused her head to jerk towards him.

In that instant he scanned her features, affirming what he had earlier questioned; she was petite, probably in the fifteen-sixteen range, a slight blush coloured her porcelain cheeks but paled in comparison to that familiar deep red that was her hair under a halo of dust, _'Breath, however unusual the similarity does not mean anything.'_

But she had the same face, same delicate bone structure down to the doe shaped eyes, wide with fright tear tracks ran down from them. He avoided the iris, he did not want to look and risk what he might see in those eyes. He was momentarily thankful that the Potter Boy was safe behind his curtains, he didn't know how the Boy would react if he saw _this_ especially after what happened in the grave yard.

_~"Her son lives. He has her eyes precisely her eyes. You remember the shape and colour of Lily Evans' eyes, I am sure?"_

"_DO NOT!" Bellowed Snape, "Gone . . . Dead . . ."~_

Involuntary at the memory his coal blacks flickered up to meet hers; warm eyes the colour of milk chocolate. He sighed silently in relief then inspected further, nether of them breaking the other's gaze, there wasn't a trace of the sparkling emerald green that still haunted his every waking moment, and while they shared a similar zest for live they were devoid of the intelligence to which he had once been accustomed_, 'It would seem that the similarities are only skin deep.'_

His deep drawling voice filled the room and demanded the attention of those who resided in it, "I repeat, tell me your name!"

She tripped over her tongue to answer, "My name's Gillian, Sir."

Her blush worsened and she stuffed her ring stacked hands into the pockets of the muggle short-shorts she wore with a t-shirt; Bite Me was written over the cleavage.

_'She is most defiantly not from around here, somewhere with a warmer climate perhaps, one that __encourages __indecency and prostitution__.__' _He thought, his nostrils twitching at the debauchery society deluded teenagers into believing, as if what they did not wear actually passed for proper clothing.

"Gillian Fairchild," clearly transfixed she did not dare look away, behind him Albus frowned his brows in concentration.

"And what, Miss. Fairchild were you doing, appearing here so suddenly? Surely you have some where else to be," he questioned as he stalked around her trembling form, "your caretakers will be so worried if you go, missing," he hissed from behind, satisfied when she let out a terrified whimper.

"What am I doing here?" She turned, "Hell what're ya doing here? That's the question innit!" She said, and waved her hands to the room as if he and not her were simply the most ridiculous person in the world, as if they were the ones in the wrong place, her eyes popped as they landed on the dog and she freezed suddenly.

_'What kind of creature do you think you are; the grim?' _He completely ignored the creature which could easily pass as an omen of death.

She screamed, again. He was pleased to note that it was a real earsplitting scream that greeted murders and deafened rapists, not one of those silly girly ones like earlier, however on the other hand it left him rather disappointed; did that bloody dog really deserve a better scream than his dark mark did?

Just when Fairchild looked as if she might drop dead on the spot because of the big bad puppy, something more annoying than sneezing universes and girls falling from the sky happened; she went invisible, and it was not 'Disillusionment' invisible either, it was I-can-not-take-points-off-Potter-because-the-Golden-Boy-is-wearing-his-insuffrable-invisiblity-cloak invisible.

To his credit he was not the only one caught off guard, similar sounds of confusion spread throughout the room as she started cursing again, "Jumping gargoyles not again! The whole world can go suck Gryffindor's short sword for all I care I'm not dealing with this!"

_'If that twit were in my house I would give out months' worth of detentions for such foul language,' _he noticed that the Golden Trio were, somehow shocked into silence, the dog however just grinned wolfishly, that alone convinced him it was all the puppy's fault.

Of course because not one of them could see her or even know where she stood, the only sign being when her bag disappeared, they could not stop her as she jumped out the window, therefore were completely caught off guard by the loud shatter and the hole that appeared in the floor length arched glass.

She left them with only a chipper, "See'ya later boys!" before she fled from the fifth floor coating the reaming shards with blood.

After the initial shock wore off, he reached for his wand so he could use a spell to relocate the body after it hit the ground so someone could identify it, allowing him to move on with his life before a certain Dark Lord ended it for him, however Albus grasped his shoulder and un-pocketed a sherbet lemon, going on as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

"And now," the whole rooms attention was once again back on the wizard, "As I was saying before I was interrupted, it is time for two of our number to recognize each other for who they are," merrily he popped the muggle treat into his mouth, "Sirius . . . if you could resume your usual form."

Severus only felt his dislike for the dog past hate to pure loathing as the scroungy, flee-ridden mutt took the form of none other than Sirius Black.

Mrs. Weasley blocked the Potter Boy's bed as she screamed at the escaped prisoner, the Boy how ever had jumped out from behind the curtains to get at the man but Molly held him back as her son Ron tried to reassure her. He however had not moved, but glared at his childhood nemesis in both fury and horror.

"You!" He snarled, '_Shall this day never end?'_

"What is he doing here?"

He remembered this time last year when he had saved the Potter Boy's skin from this very man and just when he was going to finally get the credit he deserved, it had been whisked out from under his nose in this very room, Merlin he hated déjà vu.

"He is here on my invitation," Albus replied, a barrier between them.

Severus suddenly had a flashback to his schoolboy years, how this conversation mirrored so many before it.

"As are you Severus. I trust you both, it is time for you to lay aside your differences and trust each other."

Just like this conversation mirrored so many before it, so did his thoughts; Albus Dumbledore was crazy.

"I will settle this in the short term," said Albus with a bite of impatience in his voice.

It was the same one he used when he told him; go find yourself a _special friend_, he did not need a centuries old man giving him advice on his sex life thank you very much! Or; I value your opinion, but I am hiring a highly dangerous werewolf that could put all our students at risk to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts even though he has no practice in that field, and there is nothing you can do about it.

"For a lack of open hostility you will shake hands. You are on the same side now, time is short and unless the few of us who know the truth stand united there is no hope for any of us."

Albus Dumbledore was crazy, but he was crazy like a fox.

Very slowly as he wished the man the most painfully antagonizing death he could offer, he moved to shake Sirius Black's hand, his sworn enemy, turned brother-in-arms, and let go extremely quickly, '_I must remind myself to receive a rabies shot.'_

"That will do for now," said Albus who sounded all too pleased with himself.

He seethed quietly as Albus gave orders for Black to discreetly lie low, as if he knew the definition of the word. He fought the urge to roll his eyes as the Potter Boy said his teary goodbyes to his precocious Dogfarther and went on about how he did not want him to go and he only just got here, etcetera. So self-involved just like his father.

The Dark Lord had risen only just two hours ago, was already growing stronger and most likely building an army, but the Golden Boy wanted everyone to drop what they were doing so he and his Dogfarther could swap stories by the Gryffindor fire and drink hot coco, self-centered prat, as the sob fest continued Albus turned to him.

"You know what I must ask you to do," He did, "If you are ready," He was, "If you are prepared. . ."

Prepared? Yes. Horrified. Shocked. He found himself unable to feel any of this at the moment but did it matter? He made a promise; to do whatever it takes.

"I am."

He was not a coward. The road to redemption was not an easy one, but he would do whatever it took to get where he needed to go. It would all be worth it if he could just apologize to her one last time.

_~"I wish . . . I wish I were dead . . ."~_

Albus studied him with a trace of apprehension on his face, "Then good luck."

His mentor walked away to the shattered window pane, stood silent for a moment before tuning to address the room, "Today marks the end of a delicate peace we have upheld for the last thirteen years. Lord Voldemort has returned and walks among us once again, but today also marks a new being," Albus' voice wrapped around him, making him so feel warm inside it was almost sickening, "The second war is upon us, but if we stand together nothing can break us apart, if we bring what we can to the field bravery, loyalty, wit and cunning."'

Despite having heard varied versions of this speech throughout the years, even knowing Albus' belief that sometimes they sorted to soon, He still felt himself swell with pride at hearing the Slytherin's house qualities been spoken of in such non-disrespecting terms.

Albus continued, "By protecting what we hold dear, those who we love with our very hearts bodies and souls, we have a power greater that Lord Voldemort ever will, together we are strong. It will not be easy or by all means pleasant, more than once all our lives will be in danger, but we will fight today for a better tomorrow. For our children, parents, friends, loved ones, for those who came and passed before us we will stand. We will arise from the ashes no matter how many times we burn for we are the Order of the Phoenix."

A determined silence followed Albus' speech, he knew the speech was overly clichéd and insanely optimistic, but for a moment, just a moment, he let himself hope. But only for a moment.

Black left Potter's side, he shared a brief look with the being before he turned into his more adapt form, seemingly house trained he opened the door with his paw before exiting the room, he loathed that mutt.

Severus moved to follow, spared one glace for the Golden Trio and Albus who was still standing beside the shattered window pane with a look of open curiosity, his breath caught in his throat when he realized what he was seeing; the shattered glass was once again spotless, as in there was not a drop of blood to be seen.

He managed to not jump out of his skin when he was snapped out of his train of thought as Granger slammed her hand down on the window casting them all an apologetic glance at the disturbance she caused. He swept wordlessly out the door, black robes billowing dramatically he let it slam shut behind him as he made his way to Hogsmead.

_~"Then what use would you be to anyone?" Dumbledore said coldly, "If you loved Lily Evans, if you truly loved her, then your way forward is clear."~_

To protect the memory of his dead best friend he would fight through the pain that would undoubtedly come today.

** till next time, xoxo  
>Black Lily<strong>

1) Occlumency is the art of magically defending the mind against external magical intrusion and influence and is the defensive counter to Legimency. Occlumency allows the user to suppress only feelings and memories that contradict what the user wishes a Legilimens to believe, thus allowing the Occlumens to lie without self-betrayal. Legimency does not give the user the ability to read the target's thoughts.

2) Quotations where taken from The Golbert of Fire chapter thirty-six The Parting of Ways.

3) Quotations where taken from Snape's memories in The Deathly Hallows chapter thirty-three The Prince's Tale.

If you haven't realized some things by now then let m clear them up for you to avoid the confusion. This fanfic is about LILLY LUNA POTTER and Severus Snape, as in Harry Potter's daughter not Mother, if your looking for Lily Evans then you are in the wrong place.  
>This is time travel with a plot, so if you are looking for some thing where some one from the next generation drops by and is like; I am so-an-so's kid and every body believes them with out an actual evidence, and then they love and forgive every one and then just forget about the war, you are in the wrong place so go look up some other plot-less fail.<br>Lily's outfit can be found at ** www . polyvore teen _ prostitute _ on _ holiday / set ? Id = 70831737 # fans** because I plan on majoring in Fashion design with a minor at the College of I-have-no-life, and it helps me visualize my characters better if I plan out what they are wearing.


	3. Entry Two: Me Against The World

**Entry Two  
>Me Against The World Against<strong>

When I Am: _the Daily Prophet says Sunday the 25__th__ of June 1995 but i don't trust outside information.  
><em>Where I Am: _dropping out of Hogwarts, again, but literally this time.  
><em>Who I Am: _Gillian Fairchild, Gillian is a girl's name of Latin origins it's meanings are; young at heart, innocence, and pure beauty, my given first name also shares some of these meanings, Lils can be used as a nickname for both. People with the name Gillian include Karen Gillian my favourite actress on Doctor Who (even though i've always related more with River Song), and Gillian Murphy who's my hero and a principal dancer with American Ballet Theater. Fairchild is a surname of Old English origins and it's meanings are; fair haired child (always makes me feel like i'm really a Delacour), and child loved by all. People with the name Fairchild include Clarissa Fairchild from that series that Al likes, The Mortal Instruments. I AM NOT MY ALIAS.  
><em>What Song I Am: _i've got no place to go i've got nowhere to run, i'm a nightmare a disaster that's what they always said, i'm a lost cause not a hero, but i'll make it on my own, i've gotta prove them wrong me against the world, i won't let them change how i feel in my heart, i'm not gonna let them control me, i won't let them shove all their thoughts in my head and i'll never be like them . . . -_Simple Plan: Me Against The World

I don't close my eyes as I jump, throwing my invisible body out the window of the Hogwarts Hospital Wing, and it's not the smartest thing considering the glass cutting though me like I'm a cloud on a rainy London day, and instead I keep my eyes focused on him as he stalks to the window wand out to catch me as I fall.

He doesn't, and I bite my lip to stop from screaming as I hit the ground more than a two-hundred feet below me, both my legs and my supper cute heels snap, my head hits last. I can feel my knee cap splinter and break through my delicate skin, and something funny happens to my spine and I can't move, I lay numb as I find myself paralyzed for the second time today, to overridden with pain to feel the pain, but only for a moment.

As soon as my vertebra rearrange themselves I push myself up into a sitting position and breathing evenly in and out and I feel around the grass for my broken limb, it's an odd sight, I can't see me body but I'd see the red blood covering the _form_ of my body and it's _moving_ and the rest of my blood is spread in large artistic splatters originating from my place of impact, I'd a lot in me for such a tiny person. I force my bones back into place and let out a sigh of satisfaction as they readjusts and my skin knits back together taking the rest of the pain with it.

I breathed easier as I can no longer practically taste the coppery substance in my mouth, I really hate that taste. I look up, there's no one looking down at me, good they won't see the blood on my hands quickly dry up and turn to less than dust in the summer sun, like the devil's own breath was blowing it away, leaving nothing behind like always.

I reach over for my heels and their broken beyond repair and I swear to myself that this really will be the last time I go jumping out of windows.

_I may have, over reacted just a touch when i discovered i arrived decades earlier than i ever imagined, considering it took Reg as long as it did to convince me it wasn't all a big joke i think i took the most reasonable course of action. Yes i did break my resolution never to jump out of another window. Yes i was transported back to 1995, it's wonderful. Now get over it and let's get some perspective. I would like to take a moment to say what went unsaid during my slight mental breakdown . . ._

_HE'S ALIVE! HE'S ALIVE! HE'S FUCKING ALIVE! HE'S A WALKING, TALKING (sweet Salazar the talking)! THREE DIMENSIONAL BODY AND HE'S FUCKING ALIVE! THANK THE GODDESS CAUSE HE'S ALIVE AND SO FUCKING SEXY!_

_There i said it._

With a huff I pull myself off the ground and to my feet, and tossing my heels into my messenger bag I make my way barefoot past Hagrid's cabin, the air's dry and the sun beats down on me mercilessly as I fight to keep my mind from going into over load, breath in one, two, three, and breath out one, two, three.

It'll be stupid, and somewhat satisfying if I'd run around screaming like a banshee as you fucked her up against the wall, but I just can't afford to panic right now, so I'd go hole up somewhere and then panic. Because so many people are coming and going, the gates that separate Hogwarts' grounds from Hogsmead aren't locked, and I'm able to leave without being noticed by the wards.

I keep my footsteps silent as I pass the colourful shops even though there's no one to hear me, they're all inside gossiping about the latest events of the Twiwizard Tournament, and I'm keen to know what they'll say.

I wait outside the Three Broomsticks till I'm able to enter with a young couple, and my vision is immediately bombarded be the overflow of colour and it looks like the Goddess of fandom came in for a pint and then threw up on the customers and I do my best to not brush up against any one wearing a Potter Stinks badge as I make my way to the loo at the back of the pub. I open the door and slip through and quickly check under the stalls and make sure the room's empty, before I fish into my pocket and pull out what I know to be a red octagonal sticker with WW in white.

I stick the Weasely's Wizardry 'stopper' to the door, activating its first effect, the Confundus Charm, It'll warn me if anyone gets too close and will meddle with the effected's mind so they'll lose interest in the charmed object, space, person or thing-a-migingy.

I take a deep breath as I practised and let go of my nerves willing myself into existence in front of the mirror.

I shrug off my messenger bag onto the counter before removing it of the hints that say even though it's decorated with powerful spells and enchantments it's still muggle made. There are numerous pins like Heart Breaker, Boys are Toys, The Ramen Cup and I'd gotten that one from my favourite cosplay cafe during a date with Jacob, but now's not the time to think of ex-boyfriends past. There's patches of bands from both ethnicities that I like; Parselmouths, The Ministry of Magic, and Switchblade Kittens, soon all that's left is an ordinary messenger bag it's un-studded and depatched leather is perfectly classy and boring.

I'm moving on to the next step and stripping off my torn-to-shreds-and-not-in-a-fashionable-way muggle clothes down to my knickers and rummage around for backup boots and witches robes before I finally decide on slimming black pair that leaves my hidden identity to the imagination, along with the antique necklace that I wear around my neck.

I then go about changing the rest of my appearance, but stop cursing viciously under my breath as I lean closer to the bathroom mirror to get a look at my face, and more specifically my nose in the torch light, seriously natural lighting is like so twentieth century.

'_What the bloody hell did that Goddess forsaken wanker do to my fucking cute-as-a-bug freckles?'_ I mentally shout wanting a different explanation than the answer I know to be true, and this happens every time I meet Him, I'd change, not always in a big way but it happens.

_'You were never overly fond of them anyways to begin with,' _a soothing male voice tries to point out to me.

I ignore it, they'd been my freckles and even if I'd always hated how they spread unevenly across my face, you don't just pop out of nowhere and take away a girl's freckles without so much as an apology.

I take a moment to calm myself again and am relieved when I'm finally able to charm my hair after the fourth try into a tight bun. I fish again into the deep dark mysterious depths of my messenger bag, and pull out a wig; a tangled dark mane that hides the details of my face without making it too obvious, like my ears, it's hard not to stand out in a group of third world fashion impaired people out to get you, when you got hair like fire and more piercings than Lisbeth Sander.

I center the wig on my head securely as I think back to when I'd first stared doing this, started running I'd use the spells that I'd convinced Teddy to teach me in secret to change the colour and length of my hair, _'Goddess was I ever naive as a kid,' _I snort at myself. That's one of the first things the Auror department check for when they track you and they sniff out magical surgery in a heartbeat, and they're good but more specialist than anything and only able to thrive in their own habitat, the magical community, and I'd learned the hard way that it pays to be adaptable and do some things manually opposed to magically.

I know Albus will already have someone looking for me and from experience that not being able to sense any magical anomalies they'll past by me without a second thought, unless it's Mad-Eye, but he's in the hospital dealing with his own identity crisis.

I cover my red eyebrows and lashes with makeup, the devil's in the details, and stuff my discarded clothing back into my messenger bag. leaning against the sink I look down at my hands thoughtfully, my nails are absent of their red polish, my rings all have gemstones and magical applications, it's more practical than anything, but I only really wear so many to draw attention away from the one, it isn't as if I can explain why I'm walking around with the resurrection stone on my hand the; my Farther gave it to me it's a family heirloom honest, excuse won't really fly here.

_'So what are you going to do about it then? Last time I checked you cannot take it off for very long either,' _either being however long before He senses the talisman not on my person and takes it upon Himself to drop in and make my life a living hell.

I look up and smile at the older guy, _'No kidding Captain Obvious,'_ I think and try to bring some humour to the serious situation we're thrown into. He looks down at me with worry in his golden butterbee eyes and they read me like an open book.

_'Lils . . .'_

_'Don't worry about it Reg being one of the female body I do possess the magical power of cosmetics to back me up,'_ I take out some polish to cover the ring.

_'Lead the way Sergeant Sarcastic,' _Reg retreats, knowing better than to argue with female intuition as he watches me at work.

_'I suppose I'll have to start calling you Gillian again?' _He thinks causing me to stop abruptly.

_'Only when ya're seen I guess,' _I finish, the old gold's painted silver and the black square shaped stone the colour of purple dusk hiding the hallows symbol etched in, and it always gives me a thrill to deface such priceless artifacts of mass destruction, I'm a bad girl that way.

_'Come on, Lils, let's go save the world,' _he plays devil's advocate, and earns an annoyed glare as I swing my messenger bag over my shoulder and move to follow him out the door taking the 'stopper' with me as I re-enter the crowded pub visible for all to see.

I make my way to the bar ordering a Butterbee from Madame Rosemetta; who's in her forties and pulling off Cougar better than she did Turtle.

Reg follows me as I slip through the crowd, even though he's the type that will usually turn heads in a white t-shirt and worn jeans that are in stark contrast with his tan skin, and unruly black curls, no one pays him the slightest bit of attention or even feels him past by, and he's there just for me unless I desire otherwise, like an imaginary friend.

_F.Y.I he's more unspeakably undead as of 1979, turned time traveling tag along from the era 2023 to 1995, all around parent figure, brother, BFF, and partner in crime, instead of imaginary.  
>How's that for crazy conspiracies? Oddly enough, being the only one who can see Regulus is not the reason I was taking a trip to the mad house before my detour to the Stone Age.<em>

_And no, I don't want to talk about it._

I spy with my little eye a booth at the far wall, a dark corner where I can watch everyone and hear everything.

"Yes that's right the Harry Potter and that Digory boy."

"What an attention seeker, just because he defeats You-Know-Who he thinks he can go around like he's above it all, above the law."

I race across the crowd without spilling a drop and snag the booth out from under an elderly bitch that'd _accidentally_ jabbed her large boned elbow into my side like some rabid animal, and I throw myself down in triumphant and watch as she waddles off. Pulling my Butterbee to me I pass a ring over the liquid and nothing happens confirming that it has not been tampered with; I take a sip and sit deep in thought.

"Just another Dark Lord, he is a Parseltonuge you know."

I've been sent back in time twenty-eight years to the end of the Triwizard Tournament, known in the history books as The Rising, the day of the Dark Lord's return, and the beginning of Wizarding War II, to top it off it's also the year that Justin Bieber was born, it's truly a time of great tragedy.

It sounds crazy like something out of an anime, something that everyone knows can never happen because things like that just don't happen, but they still like to fantasize about them anyway, not to say that it's not within the realm of magical possibility entirely.

Despite the fact that I'm intimately awe of the Department of Mysterious and what goes on there I'm obviously having a hard time believing that this isn't a big joke, a really big really sick joke that would not take one hundredth the amount of power to set up as it would for Him to send me back twenty-eight years in time, it just isn't possible.

_'I know He said He would send you back, but I was thinking it would be like a week, or however long it was before you . . . dropped out,' _Reg finishes lamely avoiding the topic that's a scab I've only picked at recently, and the reason I'd gotten in the car with my parents to go to my new _school_ in the first place.

Farther.

Mother.

Dead.

Aching sadness makes my throat constrict, that's the only warning I get before I start balling like a baby, mascara stains the tears that run down my face in the same paths of the ones that came earlier. I hate myself for crying, I'm breaking the number one rule for all problem children everywhere; gonna cry? Go do it in a corner

Then there's that little part of me that's always optimistic that tells me I don't have to, _'It's okay, they're okay, and so am I, they're alive I just saw them happy and healthy, this' the past after all,' _the less optimistic part of my mind, the one that doesn't believe in happy endings argues this, _'Yeah right! Who the hell am I kidding? We all just died and dropped down underground, this is just some freaky ass version of the initiation to Hell, It was bound to happen sooner or later.'_

While my mind's stuck in emotional limbo not really knowing what to believe, my eyes wandered over to that lady who made a play for my booth, her face is more pink than her dress robes and she's giving me the bulging evil toad eye.

_'Hey come on,' _Reg cheers forcefully, _'Look at that woman Lils, you tell me you don't think she doesn't look like a Pygmy Puff jacked up on Troll's juice.' _

I choke on my Butterbee at the acute comparison,_' That guy may not be all there in the head but the few times I've met Him He's made sure that He was surrounded by things that matched His . . . eccentric tastes, that dress does not make the cut, and I know that if it's not good enough for Him, He knows it's not good enough for you. This isn't an illusion Lils, this is real.'_

Reg's speech strikes a chord in me, this looks, feels real, and I want it to be, more than anything I do. The thought of that guy and His shark like grin swipes away any lingering denial in my mind, and after all since when had He paid any attention to the rules and done what was expected.

_'So yeah, time travel . . . That's cool, I can totally deal with this . . ._' I try to reassure myself weakly.

I think back to the stories I've been told as a child and what I'd seen; Severus had just shown his dark mark to the Ministry of Magic, I feel my fingers tingle and go transparent just thinking about the man and I take a sip of my Butterbee letting the hot golden liquid calm my nerves, and I know that Dumbledore reunites The Order of The Phoenix an hour after the Dark Lord returns and that Severus goes to him saying he's a spy, Uncle Bill uses the; we could die tomorrow line, and hooks up with Auntie Fleur, Black will be at Ted's dads for the next week . . . and then Grimmauld Place will be named Headquarters.

"Should have known he was a good for nothing the minute he cheated to get into the Tournament."

After that they'll start hunting me full force, they don't know who I'm just what I've seen and they will spend too much man power on me instead of where it can actually be of use and people will die because of it, and I will not have that guilt weighing me down, I'm already short enough as it is.

Unless I prove I'm not a threat before then.

I eye Reg as we think the idea forming over, sip my Butterbee absent mindfully and wait.

_'We'd have to do it soon, today even.' _he decides.

I roll my eyes at him, I just want to sit down for sixty seconds and process all this but I know I have to move, I have to run, I have to hide, and can Chrono's time travel give you jet lag? Either way I have to go.

Just then as if the Goddess herself is saying to me; If it were done when `tis done, then `twere well it were done quickly, the door opens, a bell jingles, a guy walks into the pub and heads straight to the bar, he's young and from where I sit I can see his feeble attempts to grow a mustache, he hands Madame Rosemetta some coins and two equally well manicured hands meet for the exchange. He puts his hand on his hip as he survives the pub, I can see the outline of his wand under his cloak, he looks like a regular but I know standard issue protective robes when I see them, he turns his head eyes alert back to the hostess and talks her up as she mixes him a Firewisky, I know the questions he asks before they leave his lips; is it busy today, I'm looking for a friend of mine, any one out of place lately? Goddess what a newb, probably his first time on the job, it looks like they get them straight out of the Academy these days, at least when my Farther was head of the Auror Department they had quality as well as quantity.

I leave my drink and strut past him my heels clicking to the tempo of my disgust, I lean over the bar to pass a sizable tip, the trainee just keeps on asking his questions, I smirk as he gives my profile, he's no threat to me, not now when we're so close our elbows are almost touching, I brush past him with mounting confidence and walk out the door, I was invisible coming in and no one notices me going out.

Reg slings his arm over my shoulder and with a crack disapperates me away to London, away from the real threat, somewhere where I can let my mad genius mind run ramped, after all I got plans to make, people to see and my own ass to save.

We apparate behind a car to a neighborhood where the houses are tall and close together, some over time have been made into duplexes and others have been abandoned, paint peels off the walls in narrow strips but the one that catches my eye's different.

Even though it still has all its windows it's just as grimy as all the rest, only a ghost of its former self ever since the last decedent passed away ten years ago but there's still one occupant, a house elf named Keacher, and he's part of the plan forming in my mind.

As I make my way to the battered black door of my old family home I'm struck by the resemblance Number Twelve Grimmauld Place has to Tyler's flat in Fight Club, and the transformation from run down crack house to mob mansion throughout the course of the book, and how it symbolizes the two faced truth, it's something I'm really feeling right now.

I tap the serpent doorknocker with my thirteen inch, redwood, dragon heart-string wand, and it opens to me. Stepping swiftly inside I make my way down the portrait filled hallway more quite than a ghost out of fear of Mistress Black, I know from my early years of experience that I don't want to awake the old woman crazier than myself, did she kiss her offspring's with that mouth? But more importantly the portrait of the late Headmaster up stairs who is oath bound to serve Dumbledore on Hogwarts business; such as counting lemon drops, and stopping epic conspiracies.

The house's so much more different than I remember; the walls aren't painted in stereotypical Gryffindor colours and even the columns have lost their warm glow, but more than anything it's so _quiet, _absent of numerous guest and their never ending gossip and of screams to James' pranks. I pass by the kitchen and winkle my nose at a pile of maggots in a corner as they feed off something that looks as if it's still moving.

_'Gross, ya know Reg, even before Mother got to depressed to cook I don't think she would have ever in a million years be as desperate as to step into a place like that without a full body protective cloak.'_

_'Well let's hope she has one, because if this doesn't work she'll be cleaning it,' _he answers blandly.

'_Ya can be so anti-optimistic sometimes,' _I shoot back, and head to the stairs I think about the times when living in a place like this was a luxury I couldn't afford, it's the house of a dying person. Keacher, Goddess bless him, being as faithfully committed to the Black family as he is has never gotten around to cleansing the house of the aura of death and decay, and it's really bringing me down.

_Okay so maybe i wanna talk/write about it a little bit. But it's weird you know?_

_I lived in this house, sometimes, that room on the right at the end of the hallway on the second floor? Yeah that's mine, with the exception of the fourish-hours/twenty-eight-years in the future when i was finally disowned by my family, who i'm not going to write about right now!_

_Back on track. My room, when i stayed here that's where i would go to blast my music to loud in the mornings when none of the clubs where open, when i wanted to read the new Stephen King book i would sit at the window to the fire escape, and sometimes i would just escape, it smells like me for Merlin's sake, like strawberries, you know what i had a bed in that room, sure i might have set it on fire before i left but that's beside the point, the point is i lost my virginity, and did some other sins on that bed that will not be talked about, moving on. With the help of Scorp and Al I painted those walls, Death Note, and Zombie-Loan, i hung those posters with permanent sticking charm. I made that room MINE, they can not just take it away from me._

_But that is exactly what they are going to do! In what? Six-and-a-half days a bunch of strangers are going to come and take over the house that my family lived in and turn it into their little HQ for plotting against each other, killing, war and a bunch of other freaking fucked up shit that was already going on any way except it was my family and i was a part of it._

_Now they're just going to give it away, probably to some washed out hippie who believes they have any effect at all on the world (bullshit), and what they will actually help someone, because love concurs all, (double bullshit). What if they play soft music, or Goddess forbid, _Mozart_? They'll spray a little air freshener and get rid of my smell, cover up my walls with fresh paint. Someone is going to move in there, walk where i walked, sit where i sat, probably not curl up in a ball and cry where i cried. It is MY room, MY space, MY air. Have I given any one permission to breathe my air? I don't think so! MINE!_

_Wow.  
>I feel better.<br>Rant over._

_Promise not to tell anyone i told you okay? I don't want to talk about it._

_I'll go away now, it'll be like i was never here._

I tried to look at the bright side; I wasn't locked up in the mad house, because at heart I really am an optimist, really. But I broke a really cute pair of heels. Flip side there's thirty-seven more pairs where they came from, with the rest of my worldly possessions. My parents died, bummer. Except not really, time travel and all. I've only been here three hours and already people want me dead or alive . . . I'm really pretty.

_'You're just about as optimistic as a ray of sunshine blocked by storm clouds in that place that whales go to die that used to be called the Arctic,' _Reg snipes.

I chose to ignore that really specific comment as I made my way carefully up the stairs wand out and scanning for traps.

_'Happy to be home?' _I asked Reg tentatively as I stroll down the hallway admiring a serpent chandelier.

_'Actually yes,' _he replies his voice nostalgic with a hit of, dare I think homesickness?

Personally I feel all the Blacks are crazy, with the exception of Regulus of course, and I don't particularly like Sirius much, at all, even a little, truthfully I've always hated him, and have as recently as three hours ago partially fulfilled my lifelong dream of actually meeting him, and one that involves a lot of kicking and screaming, and then the unfulfilled fantasy of roasting him up like a hot dog on a stick, '_Goddess if I could cook.'_

_'Hi, Lily could you not think about that please?' _Reg begs me silently, _'It's disturbing, not to mention cannibalism and I know that you of all people are against cannibalism.'_

I tell myself that it isn't cannibalism if he's in his animagus form, and put away that thought to visit latter due to the strong sense of disapproval being sent my way.

However I'm happy that Reg's happy, and want him to enjoy what's left of his family. Which I tell myself firmly as I make my way to the drawing room where I hear the familiar muttering, is why the first part of my Grand-Seam-Master-Plan plotted over non-alcoholic Butterbee, is so important. I stop to charm off my disguise, for this to work he has to see me for who I really am, and besides I've always loved Keacher, and Keacher always loves me.

_Looking back on the day i can't say one way or the other if i was looking for help or acceptance.  
>Either way all I ever seem to get is my heart broken and my clothes ruined.<em>

I take a deep breath before I enter the room unknown to the elf inside standing in front of a cabinet. If my plan works hopefully it'll stop Siruis from signing his own death warrant, I don't want Reg to hurt.

"Oh what to do, what to do? Keacher's tried and tried but he's still unable to follow Master Regulus orders, he must punish himself yes, Keacher's failed as a house elf . . ." Through the link I can feel Reg's pain and I step in before the ear burning and hand chopping judgement can begin.

"Keacher!" I scream, and the elf jumps around and eye me suspiciously.

"Oh there is an intruder in Mistress' house," Keacher croaks and raises his hands in preparation to use some very kick ass house elf magic, "Keacher will get rid of it yes, he will protect The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black ."

"Keacher I know what ya are trying to do," I try to calm him and raise my hands above my head in a non-threatening manner as I knell in front of him, "I know about the locket."

"It talks about the locket, oh but it knows not, intruder knows not, how could it know about Master Regulus' locket?" He cries wringing his fragile hands.

"No Keacher, I do know," I answer and repeat the story I'd heard for the first time when I asked my Farther why my new babysitter couldn't walk through walls like normal dead people, "What I know is that Reg loved ya and his family, and he just became a soldier during the war under a corrupt ruler," apparently this is the wrong answer.

"No!" screamed Keacher and sparks flew from his fingers, "No, No, No! Master Regulus fought for the Dark Lord, his word is law! He will rise again and lead the world into a new era, long live the Dark Lord!"

And then a red hex that defiantly is not 'Stupefy' hit the wall behind the space my head had been at before I'd ducked behind the couch.

"He will rid the world of lesser than muggles, undeserving filth, they's are not worthy of magic!" The house elf ranted.

This is so not part of the plan, Keacher loves me Goddess dammit! I feel Reg's spirit dreading the moment I will give him a body and I know he's not ready for this, _'Ya not the only one less than happy to be home,'_I snarl.

My position given away I throw up a shielding charm just in time to block 'Diffindo' and I just can't disappear fast enough as I escape to hide behind a book shelf, my wand reacts more so than usual to my violent tendencies which is still almost never, and point is fighting's not my strong front.

"Ya're a house elf, I'm a witch ya not allowed to hurt me," But I don't believe what I preach and we both know it.

"Keacher is a good elf, he's not hurting he's Mistress, he's doing his job and getting rid of Blood Traitors like you!" Well that just doesn't work with my plan because I don't want to hurt you, and I say my plan comes first.

I hear the ominous slam and click of the door shutting; a sound that forebodes mass murder in every horror movie ever made.

A yellow brown mist has started to spread across the floor of the room and it makes my eyes water, and holy fuck is that mustard gas? I thank the Goddess for my mad fashionista and part Veela cousins; the Delacours who're obsessive enough to put protective charms on all the clothes that they designed for me, because the gas that starts as an irritated itch before eating away at the skin, is now covering the whole floor, but hasn't yet got past my thigh high black leather boots thanks to the; balancing, bullet proof, temporary sticking, non-tearing, weightless, anti-gravity, speed, strengthening, and spell proof charms.

I miss my cousins, especially Domi, I haven't seen her since I dropped out of Hogwarts, and I've reminded myself again that this is not the same room I used to fight in with James when I was younger, and this is not my home, not any more. But I'm not leaving, not with out a fight.

I look around the book case and see Keacher through the gas, apparently years of abuse has given him a certain tolerance to certain weapons used to commit mass genocide in World War II, because he's making his way towards me and despite my ability to regenerate I'm not really in the mood to get hexed up into tiny little pieces right now! I spot my bag thrown under one of the many king ping leather couches on the other side of the room, I need to stick to the plan and I've some instant darkness powder in the lower left pocket that will level the playing field.

I turn to face the wall uncomfortable with leaving my back open, and I start to walk up, one step at a time, and only my raw determination and lean mean muscle keeps my body straight, and I list all the reasons to keep on going forward as my open thighs, arms and face start to itch uncontrollably, that sweat breaking out on my forehead is calories dieing, air pockets have started to bubble across my skin that pop and ooze orange puss, and right now I hate my traditional robes and the corset pulled to tight that confines all proper Witches, The blisters on my skin have started to turn red, I hate them, the ones who always try to shut me down and shut me up, I keep on walking one step at a time and I'm able to breath easier with the extra oxygen coming through the hole in my cheek, the Blacks, not all of them of course, Keacher for not loving me, and I don't stop till I hang invisible from the ceiling like an over grown bat.

Only when I'm away from the constant attack on my body does it start to heal and I've a very bad idea of what I would've looked liked, one minute I'm sticking out my tongue without opening my mouth and the next I'm not.

For the first time I got a proper layout of the room through the yellow mist; the double doors are twenty-five feet in front of me, my bag's under one of the couches arranged in a C position in the center of the room around a coffee table ten feet to my left, an L shaped stage raised five feet, railing three, takes up the wall to my left and behind me, on it are rickety tea tables and a burned out family tree, the other two walls are a library of extremely dangerous dark artifacts that should be avoided at all cost, Keacher's covering the areas base, moving back and forth as he casts revealing charms every where and there's no windows, damn. I can feel the moldings of the ceiling I'm standing on move, thunderous skies that rumble beneath my feet and angry Gods go to war, they won't hold me for long.

"It can't hide forever, no It can't, Keacher's finding it yes, he's protecting The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black."

Adrenaline pumps through my veins and I run, my heals make holes that are immediately made bigger as they're blasted behind me and I let my body fall the eight feet, I catch the railing in a hand stand, one of my rings allows me to plummet my self through the air, I land in a crouch on the coffee table that explodes when I touch it, the very house it's self is fighting against me.

The blast catches me of guard and when I'm thrown back onto the couch I regain my colour, stop drop and crawl on the ground, eyes burning because of the gas, and I reach blindly for my bag, but Keacher apparates in front of me with a crack and grabs it simultaneously shooting a blue hex that hits my shoulder, I can't feel the skin blister on my right hand but I can see it as I scuttle back, and that's when I realize I still have my wand clenched tightly in my left _'Have I gone mad? Am I a witch or not?'_ I think angerly to my self.

" 'Accio' instant darkness powder!" I shout through a muffled cough and a little black rock flies from the bag Kreacher holds tightly and hits the wall enveloping the room in black just as I'm hit with a 'Petrificus Totalus' freezing my lower body, when this is all over I'm so going to donate to the Paralyzed Veterans of America because they just do not get enough apparition for the struggles they go through.

"Keacher ya hafta listen to me, when Reg found out what the Dark Lord made ya do in that cave he realized how messed up what he was doing was and he turned his back on the Death Eaters!"

"Liar!"

"No, the locket was a trap that he set but he didn't tell ya any of that cause he was protecting you!"

There's silence and I can feel my hands and legs start to heal as the mustard gas in the ear dissolves, and I can hear the slap of flesh on flesh as Keacher punishes him self at the memory, "Brave Master Regulus was, so brave and so nice to Keacher, He's so _proud _to serve Master Regulus!"

"Ya know, ya know what I say is true he didn't really want any of this, he was just confused," I felt the charm holding me down released as I think; _'And by confused I mean ya bought into some severely fucked up racial issues.'_

'_I had been having a really bad couple of years and it seemed like a good idea at the time . . .'_ my partner in crime said to me his first words since entering the room. Performance anxiety, happens to everybody.

_'Hey I'm not judging ya, I'm just glad that it seems I got through to Kreacher when I did cause he was kicking my ass, severely.'_

"Oh but how is the Young Miss knowing this? How is she knowing of the bravery of Master Regulus? Keacher was ordered never to speak of it."

Young Miss? Well that was certainly a step up from the objectived _It_.

The darkness leaves and the lights come back on, and I study Keacher's submissive form as he keeps his eyes down and back hunched in anticipation of the cane, and he's still brave enough to speak so boldly, I reach into my robes and pull out the out the locket, the fake horcrux until it hangs between us in the air like a fifteen carat sun. I let it go when Keacher snatches it back, holding his precocious to his chest like he did before he gave it to me just fourish-hours ago, oh the paradox of it all.

"Oh the Young Miss has brought back Master Regulus' locket, oh wonderful Miss," he praises me and I can see the same Keacher who took care of me as a child, who bathed me, bumped me, changed my nappies and convinced Reg to sing me Baby got Back when I screamed loud enough.

"The name's Lily Keacher," I correct him, for this to work he has to see me for who I really am.

"Look the thing is I come from a some where else, far, far away, and at this some where else Regulus is respected for his sacrifices and admired as being one of the first protectors of house elves," Keacher's eyes enlarged by the tears grew larger still, "He's a hero."

"Oh Master Regulus why didn't you tell Keacher?" his shoulder's start heaving and I pat his bald head awkwardly, "You're brother ran off and broke Mistress' heart, and now Keacher's all alone, oh why didn't you tell him?"

I stand up and shake my hair, dislodging the hormones stuck like lice to my roots and trying to mess with my head, it's been a very emotional day. I never could stand it here, I make my way out of the drawing room, the door automatically opens to me and Keacher follows at my heals and down the stairs.

"Look Keacher, I really need ya to give me the locket, ya said you haven't destroyed it yet and I can make sure it's done, but for this to work ya gonna hafta trust me.

Keacher with no questions asked, grabs the locket he had hidden in his lioncloth and hands it to me, the mila-second it touches my skin I felt a delicious shiver pass up my spine and my hair stands on end, I glance at Keacher but I all ready know he didn't feel it, and I see only trust and adoration in his eyes, well that's one member recruited for team I Heart Lily, it feels good to be loved.

I scan the green moss eaten walls that we pass pocketing the real horcrux, "Sirius' gonna come home soon," I drop the bomb with out warning on my way to the door.

"Sir Sirius?" The house elf repeats looking up surprised, disgusted and all around borderline unhappy.

"Right, he's gonna stop by next week with some of his people, the ones fighting for team light, So if it's not to much trouble ya might wanna tidy up just a touch," newly devoted and eager to please Keacher nods, his ears flapping in the wind as he's seemingly over joyed to tackle the ten years of dust that's piled up.

"Listen about Sirius, the guy's an ignorant toe rag with no family loyalties, I don't expect you to like him I really don't, but he's Reg's brother so we need to protect him." Keacher seems to agree with my logic.

I add with a pleading note in my voice and my hand on the nob, "But even more importantly, above all else don't tell anyone about me unless they ask directly okay?"

"Mistress Lily," The house elf says, using a title of greatest respect, "If Master Regulus is really loving his brother as much as you's say is true then Keacher will protect him with his life."

"Believe me, I wouldn't be here if he didn't."

**A Moment in the Loony-Toony Mind of ex-ex-Headmaster Dumbledore**

He studied the peace offering on his desk with as many thoughts in his head as stars in the sky as he played with the block of wood that he held in his hands, taking his time to get to know it's crevices before he picked up his wand to start whittle. He wanted to say it felt like a Pawn against his knowledgeable calluses but in his age he had come to appreciate the subtle differences between sherbet lemons and lemon drops.

The change of today's events from that in which he had expected the unexpected where as surprising to him as Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, and just as truly unexpected. He simply did not have the slightest inkling onto how it was found, he glanced fondly down at embroidery of tiny emeralds that fashioned a delicate S in the golden locket and matching chain.

He had been searching for years because of his theory of the seven, had worked tirelessly to find a answer to his question of the Horucxes when there may well be no answer to be found, and now it had fallen into his lap just like that. He now had the locket of Salazar Slytherin and was one step closer to finishing the puzzle, one step closer to winning the game, one step closer to defeating Lord Voldemort.

He prayed that he did not find the answers to all of his question he did not want answered that easily, for the boy's sake. Maybe it was a Castle, possibly a Bishop.

He glanced at the letter that had appeared on his desk as soon as he sat down after finishing his talk with their current Minister and reread it yet again, he had a wonderment about how long he would re-read the letter before the words made sense, he feared the ink may be black.

_Dear Albus:  
>Maybe we can help each other.<em>

Oh yes he had a very good idea of how it was found and at the same time none at all.

One thing was for certain though, the who was nobodies Pawn.

_On that note so sorry to inform you;  
>You will not be seeing me for some time as i've recently purchased a mask and dominatrix costume to conceal my identity, after all every super-secret-anti-hero needs one.<br>Your friend_

**till next time, xoxo  
>Black Lily<strong>

1)_ bands from both ethnicities that I like; __Parselmouths__, The __Ministry of Magic__, and __Switchblade Kittens_, are all wizard rock bands, that's right not only did J. K. Rowling write the best series ever (in my opinion), but she also inspired a new music genre that is celebrated at a concert in New York every year, check it out at ** www . nyc wizard rock festival . com** Interesting fact; Ode To Harry Potter by the Switchblade Kittens is the first ever wizard rock song and The Parselmouths sing the Black Family Anthem.

2) Lisbeth Sander is the main protagonist in The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson, and in my mind Lily has at least four piercings on each ear but none on her face or body, and for the sake of the plot a tattoo on her lower back that was removed prior to the Foreword.

3) Parseltonuge is the ability to talk to snakes, see 'the parselmouth' for the translator and 'parseltongue 101' for how to write the accent.

4) My recipe to make Fire Whiskey is: 1 ounce of whiskey and 1/2 ounce of cinnamon schnapps, combine both in a shot glass and stir before serving and let settle, the longer it sits the stronger the cinnamon.

5)_ If it were done when `tis done, then `twere well it were done quickly _is a quote in reference to Shakespeare's play Macbeth during Act 1 Scene 7.

6) The first rule of Fight Club is you do not talk about Fight Club. The second rule of Fight Club is you do not talk about Fight Club. That being said read Fight Club, and then watch the movie, Helena Bonham Carter does an excellent job as the female protagonist Marla Singer.

7) One of my favourite scenes in The Sorcerer's Stone that I quoted is; _"So light a fire!" Harry chocked. "Yes of course, but there is no wood!" Hermione cried, wringing her hands. "Have you gone mad?" Ron bellowed, "Are you a witch or not?"_

8) _He had come to appreciate the subtle differences between sherbet lemons and lemon drops._ Is in refinance to the American edition of the first two books, Dumbledore's candy was lemon drops, but in the original British version it was 'sherbet lemons'.

Lily is going through the five stages of grief; denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance and all around bitchiness. If you don't like Lily Luna as a sassy, manipulative, selfish, drunk on love psychotic little Witch with very little moral self esteem and family issues, than this is NOT the fanfic for you because she is no one's Golden Girl.  
>Lily's outfit can be found at <strong> www . polyvore super _ secret _ aint _ hero  set ? 73559272**


	4. Entry Three: Sweet Dreams

**Chapter Three  
>Sweet Dreams<strong>

How Am I: __one day, that will probably be tomorrow morning, i'll look back on tonight and have no memory of the slight melt-downs i had when ex: The Runaways played on the radio, when a vendor tried to sell me glasses instead of coloured contacts, and when i lost that game of poker to the proudful-parenting-pair, all of it'll be gonegonegone except for a few lines in my diary, so when you read this i can personally assure myself that no matter how many people i snacked on before i emotionally overdosed, and the hangover that will inevitably follow when you wake up, more angry than a dragon that lost it's eggs, know that all of it is so much less painful than the alternative of actually dealing with the shit life gives you, believe me cause for these few short hours I KNOW THE TRUTH but you don't, but take my word for it because you know how the sky bends moments before it's about to fall, ignorance is bliss, stay in the dark.___  
><em>What Song Am I: __sweet___ dreams are made of this who am I to disagree? i travel the world and the seven seas everybody's looking for something, some of them want to use you some of them want to get used by you, some of them want to abuse you some of them want to be abused, hold your head up keep your head up, movin' on . . . _-The Eurythmics: Sweet Dreams

**Cause you can't spell DRAMA without DRAco MAlfoy**

He ignored the traitorous inkling of respect for Granger that creeped into his little black heart after she solved Seeker's secret. Bored with simply ease dropping he opened the door in front of him, dramaticly he entered the train compartment that held the Golden Trio followed by Crabbe and Goyle. Gray eyes clashed with deep green in a battle of the glare, he smirked, beyond pleased that his epic conspiracy of the year had finally been revealed.

"Very clever Granger," he drawled then shutted his mouth before he said anything to incriminate himself further, it was all he could do to not copy the know-it-all's complete and total lack of class and jump hand in the air ready to claim credit for his latest achievement.

"So," he moved closer to _him_, a satisfied smirk spread across his face as the Gryffindor's cinnamon scent reached his pointed noise and symmetrical nostrils, "You caught some pathetic reporter and Potter's Dumbledore's favourite boy again, big deal."

It _was_ a big deal just not very surprising. The boy was, while nowhere near as smart as Granger, surprisingly cunning, He was also, as his favourite Professor would say; the world's most impulsive dunderhead he had ever had the displeasure of meeting, he would have found out about his little charade eventually, it was just thanks to his piss pour plotting skills that it was latter rather than sooner.

He knew he would only have to push a little harder for Potter to spend a certain amount of time sorely on trying to hex Draco with so much hate that just the thought made his skin tingle, fighting with Potter was always such a marvelous distraction from his other problems. His smirk widened as Potter's hand twitched towards his wand pocket, Crabbe and Goyle leered beside him.

Now that all their parents had returned to the Dark Lord, they would start watching each other instead of watching out for each other. It was a shame really, he had rather liked them, he didn't mind that they only had double digit IQ's, all good minions did. It was so totally awesome how he could ramble on for hours about absolutely nothing and they would always listen and keep it to themselves, it had been nice to have not only one but two people who could put up with his strong character, and depressing to think that soon he would go back to talking to a mirror.

It _was _a big deal, what Potter had done it affected him. It meant a power shift in the school, of course that had more to do with what Potter had reported than the his bug on the wall. Over the last year His own control in Slytherin had grown immensely even more so than it had in second year, he had gained popularity in the school with the Potter Stinks fashion trend but what secured him in his own house was the connection he had formed with the Dumstrang students that put him in place to receive the title of Prince of Slytherin like his farther before him, and now The Dark Lord was back and his farther wasn't responding to his letters or his attempts to reach him through the two way mirror, well that could mean any number of horrible things, it wouldn't be long before blood wars started to stir within his own house, it could have been more easily avoided if they had not been separated by the summer holidays and the Crowning at All-Hallows Eve, he feared that the coming tasks may be more dangerous than ever for himself and his family, Slytherin House needed a strong leader to keep them united, not something that would be easy when his competition was Theodore Nott.

And he thought his feelings for Potter where complicated before. Now he had problems. Yes, he could use a distraction.

"Trying not to think about it are we? Trying to pretend it didn't happen," he taunted.

"Get out!" The Golden Boy growled.

"You picked the losing side Potter."

"I warned you, I told you to choose your company more carefully remember? I told you not to hang around with riff-raff like them," he jerked his head at Weasel and Granger, _'If they are good enough for you, why not me?'_

"They'll be the first to go now that the Dark Lord is back, mudbloods and muggle lovers will be first!"

"Well the second, Diggory was the first."

Before he could say anything else, he was deafened by a series of loud bangs, he didn't realize he had been hit till he fell to the floor under a sea of bright light and vibrant colours, he always seemed to see fireworks when he was around Harry_._

He awakened an hour latter laid out on the floor of the train compartment and moved gracefully to his feet despite the pain only to find Crabbe and Goyle had already left, along with the magical effects of whatever curse or hex he had been hit with. However, he was not alone, he ignored the plummeting feeling in his stomach when he could make out beneath the seasons most fashionable traveling cloak; the familiar strong shoulders of the woman's fifties style suit, worn by the most noble and regal lady sitting on the bench directly in front of him, he obediently took his place by her side.

"Hello Mother," he greeted politely, not knowing what to expect in return. When addressed she lowered her hood to show her Malfoy blond hair, not done up in it's signature pin-up style with a band sporting the family crest. His throat tightened when he saw the unhealthy colour of her skin and the flimsy glamor that concealed the bags beneath her eyes.

"Oh Draco . . ." She spoke her voice as hoarse as a muggle chain smoker, "I don't know Draco, I don't know . . . Lucius . . . I just don't know."

He was shocked when _his Mother_ did something he had known her to do rarely without the assistance of eye drops, she cried, "Draco, I'm so . . . I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he looked at her oddly for a moment, what was he supposed do to comfort her in this potentially life altering disaster of epic portions? They were Malfoys, always meant to hide their emotions that would give the enemy strength over them, but this was his Mother and she was crying. He put a hand on her shoulder and hoped it was enough.

Sometime later, He and his Mother left the train. Not a hair out of place as we proudly walked down the street ignoring the rumors that followed in their steps when his Farther was no where to be seen.

**The Following Thoughts are Property of Missy Gilbert, Assistant Landlady of Pleasant View Housing**

She led one of the Fairchild twins up the rickety stairs of the apartment she was currently showing, her brother had said she was loony or something and sometimes needed the help, normally she wouldn't be sucking up this much but he was so yummy, like with extra salt.

The harsh florescent lighting in the narrow hallway illuminated his smile and prattled on about the buildings limited functions, maybe he would like to get together with her at the local Laundromat some time? The chemistry that was sparking between her and the brother was enough to make her skin tingle till she went weak in the knees.

She was planning how she would ask him out as she talked a mile a minute about the plumbing, boring, he probably thought she was a total dork, it didn't help that she couldn't stop tripping on the stairs, maybe instead of a date she could interest him in a private viewing of the janitors closet? Oh My God? Did she actually say that out loud, did she, he hadn't reacted like she said anything, God what was wrong with her?

She was ecstatic by the time they stopped at the door to number seven which they had requested, finally she had an excuse to let go of the girls hand that was holding hers like way to tight, was she loony or just lesbo? She didn't say anything because those rings looked like they could pack quite the punch.

Hottie aside, talk about good luck! They hardly ever got a apartment hunters around here willing to pay a month in advance. It was usually just crack whores and drop out college students who thought they where above bills, and really why would they ever get anything else? This place was a dump, no windows unless you count the fire escape, the heating was free but didn't work, there was one room, a kitchen with a broken refrigerator, and toaster oven, with a bunk bed in off to the side night night don't let the bed bugs bite, and a mildew covered shower in the small bathroom. Really the only reason any one came here was because it was no where.

She looked at the Fairchild twins, growing more than a little suspicious she played the guessing game. They were dressed a too well to be broke enough to have no choice but to come here, the guy anyway, he was wearing a button down for Christ sakes, his hair matched his sisters, it was hard to tell if they where even really related, his skin was artificially tanned and she couldn't see the girls face, maybe she _was_ a crack whore, she was defiantly skinny enough, and it would certainly explain the shoes.

The brother she was happy to see was looking more than pleased with the apartment, weird. In addition the sister, she flinched and moved away from the younger girl, slumping against the wall in a wave of dizziness when she saw that the girl's eyes were boring into hers.

A chill ran down her spine when she saw the exact colour; black, not brown like it was back downstairs, but like the pupil had expanded to eat the iris in stark and was in contrast to the white, she immediately ran through a the list of drugs in her head that effected the eyes, what was she on?

She didn't ask them for identification to fill out the forms, you didn't have to in a place like this that was the point, she just told them to put sixty-three pounds every week under the door of number thirteen, she took the first payment from the sisters hands almost going cross eyed when she reached into her pocket for change, the girl looked over joyed to see the pennies in my hand, yes the do still make pennies you loony, yes I am sure, no you can't touch it, you want to count pennies all your life than you should have gone to Canada, not London.

A sleepy feeling settled over her as she realized vaguely that they were talking about LasVegas and all the money they had won, which explained some things, but it was weird because they said they had done it only one hour ago. She was going to speak up and say it was impossible to get from LasVegas to London in one hour, her mouth formed the words but no sound came out.

She watched transfixed as the girl moved slowly to the bed and threw her self down in slow motion before taking a little black book out of her bag to read, black eyes caught her gaze and her tranquilized mind told her that she had best forget what she had just heard, about every thing.

Hands shaking, she mutely fled the apartment using the wall for support as she fought with her body to keep from fainting. She didn't remember how she got there, but she fell in bed, her whole body shaking as if she were having a bad case of the chills or a small seizure before she passed out and didn't wake up for three days. Looks like her luck wasn't starting to turn up after all.

**.**

_The last thing i remember is visiting the house to talk to Keacher.  
>I don't know why and i don't want to know whyTruth? I went to such lengths to have my memory whipped, all i know is when I woke up i was locked inside a suite at the Rock n' Roll Casino, lying in a bath literally swimming with cash and some rant i wrote about how it was better i not know what i had known but don't know now._

_I had a killer hangover, my mouth tasted like copper and i could see the green/yellow/blue aura rise up out of the floor and my body would not stop shaking, in that time i don't know how long, (wouldn't show me a window wouldn't show me a clock, how many moments did i spend trying to crawl out of my skin?) Reg stuck around treating me like i was a stick of TNT lit from both ends and it made me so very very _angry_ if he had given me back my bag/wand i would've set the whole place on fire, i wanted to breath smoke._

_Once it wore off he room-serviced me some chines food and a strawberry smoothie and he told me what happened;  
>we went to Vegas after delivering the package to Mr.D, cameras don't have facial reconization yet and i got so many faces, Reg gave up his corporal form and channeled my magic so the may odds be ever in my favor seventy-five-percent of the time, every one just thought i was really good at poker, blackjack, dice, pool, risk, the truth is i'm just really good at lieing and lucky enough to get away with sixty-four-thousand-and-seventy-two-pounds. We blew of some steam at the Strip while planning our next move and i did the math (see below) in the end all we could come up with was plan a plan to buy time till we have an Order Infiltration plan, the quaffles in their Quidditch <em>_pitch now, were laying low till a new variable comes up/Keacher tells them where to find me. _

Disappear vs. Infiltrate  
><em>(money + alias + hideaway) = disappear<br>disappear _risk_ = original time-line 53%, genocide 37%, other 10%,  
>((information x2) + power + threat) = infiltrate<br>infiltrate = H.I.M  
>infiltrate <em>risk_ = everything_

_Which brought us to the subject of where? _1) _Should we even stay in England? PRO: That's where all the action is and the best way to stay informed, CON: HBP – Death Eater - Legilimens – Dark Lord. _2)_ Should we go to North America? PRO: i was going to finish my schooling there anyway – i need to get stronger and the Dark Lords control never reached out side of the United Kingdom, CON: you need an apperation license to cross legally (identification is bad) they are very strict on illegal immigrants. _3)_ Should we road-trip it? PRO: Jake taught me how to drive a motorcycle, Reg knew how to drive a car sixteen ears ago, CON: different countries means changing different currencies – paper trail._

_Apparently we were discussing the Dodge Ram truck vs. Ford Angelia car when i severed the bond between our minds and had what can only be described as the first of many complete and total mental break downs that day because i had realized the ?Truth? Reg told me we went to a club to dance through my issues and when "i couldn't handle knowing any more" i started a bar fight and didn't stop till the cops came and cuffed me, on the way to the station i drained both of them and binged on the other passenger before i passed out. After which he __disapperated__ me to our hotel room and threw away the key._

_Whatever shit happened in Vegas is staying in Vegas, but not me, i'm back in London bitches.  
>We just sighed the metaphorical lease (course it's that kinda place) a couple hours ago, i also just finished talking to Keacher, i've missed him, he says he'll be able to put up some bad ass cloak and dagger charms to protect the perimeter of flat, but since he's not my house elf he's not allowed to use magic on the inside, i need to practice my transfiguration skills anyway, badly, however since the Order just arrived at the house he won't be able to sneak away as often, therefore it will take him a couple of days to put up the protective wards that will hide my magical signature, during witch time i'm forbidden to use magic that requires a wand and i'm told "yous must be relaxing Mistress Lily".<br>Well one of my favourite films was just released, and i don't have much else to do . . ._

**A Life in the day of The-Boy-Who-Lived**

He limped down the stairs of the Dursley's unnaturally clean kitchen at dawn to make his guardians a full course breakfast in time for them to wake up in a few hours and then he would set about cleaning the house again, despite the strange happenings earlier in the week it still remained unnaturally spotless, the smell of bleach and disinfectant still heavy in the air around him burning his nose and making him want to cry. He would finish before noon taking a shot bathroom break and tidying up the gardens and remaining evidence around three before he was finally allowed to eat himself. Such had been his his routine for the last five summers, and almost ten years before that.

He dried the bacon of grease on a paper towel and checked the hash browns, noting they were half done when it happened. He had gotten into the habit of preparing himself for it since it happened more often now, after the first night. Instantly putting down harmful objects and bracing himself with his knees shoulder width apart so he didn't collapse, clamping his mouth shut to not make a sound, but when the first wave of pain washed over him, he realized that no matter what he did nothing could have prepare him for it.

As always, the irritation passed over his temples and then a burning pain seared the lighting shaped scar on his forehead, his body froze up and he was unable to stop himself from knocking over the frying pan. The pain washed over him like a wave of fire pulling him under a bottomless ocean his vision blurred and eyes watered to the point where he couldn't see anything clearly but the red and black dancing across his vision, maybe he had burst a blood vestal?

He clutched desperately to the stainless steel stove to try and keep himself up right as he heard his Uncle Vernon stampeding down the stairs and into the kitchen, he barley paid a glance to his fallen breakfast before he started shouting.

"DAMN YOU BOY! WE PUT THE CLOTHES ON YOUR BACK! THE FOOD IN YOUR MOUTH! WE'VE KEPT YOU IN THIS HOUSE FOR FOURTEEN YEARS DESPITE YOUR ABNORMALITY! WHAT YOU DID! THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY US! BY THROWING OUR FOOD, MY HARD EARNED MONEY, ON THE FLOOR!"

As Uncle Vernon bellowed, he brought a big meaty fist crashing into Harry's nose disturbing his balance he caught himself on all fours followed by a sharp pain in his gut, after a couple lung breaking kicks His cousin Dudley warbled into the kitchen looking sullen as he hung on to his crutches his broken leg dragging behind him.

"Daddy I'm hungry, why hasn't the Freak finished cooking yet?" He said paying a dirty glance at him as he started balling up into himself and laughing hysterically.

He fisted his hair despite the fact that it was wet with blood, his glasses had been broken and the shards cut deep gashes into his face and neck, each time he moved his head the twisted frames nudged his broken nose but still despite it all, he laughed. A high maniac laugh that felt vaguely familiar and made him sound positively mad.

Uncle Vernon looked at him in disgust and dragged him by the scruff of the neck up the stairs still laughing, he dropped the boy abruptly leaving him to crawl the rest of the way he left to escort his wife and son out the door going on about a restaurant where they could get better service, after all he had just got a big promotion at work and wanted only the best for his family.

He didn't care about that right now, he didn't that he would have to use more healing potions from the dwindling supply he had nicked from the hospital wing almost a week before.

Right now all he cared about was the burning pain that came from his scar and the emotions that raged inside him, in his body and bones, in his very skin he felt joy, rage, and celebration. He was surely going mad for he could hear someone screaming, pleading for it all to stop. But it was not him, the pain was so over whelming he couldn't even remember how.

**till next time, xoxo  
>Black Lily <strong>

1)_ H___ow the sky bends moments before it's about to fall, __and __a stick of TNT lit from both ends,__ are both quotes in reference to To This Day by Shane Koyczan, which is siriusly like the best poem ever, if I had it my why (and the right font) I would've already inked it onto my body.

2) Quotations where taken from The Golbert of Fire chapter thirty-seven The Beginning.

3)_ May the odds be ever in your favor_ is the quote from, of course; The Hunger Games.

4) Sixty-four-thousand-and-seventy-two British pounds is the equivalent to one-hundred-thousand Canadian dollars.

5) A Ford Angelia is the car that Harry and Ron borrowed from Aurthur Weasley in The Chamber of Secrets.

Dear readers my other fanfiction The Teachings of Time has been ADOPTED by the great, the wonderful, the only FalconLux so if you have read it before or want to read it simply add FalconLux to your authors' alerts and wait for the updates, or check out the original copy that will remain on my profile as a reminder of the magnificent piece that could have been had I not been such a lazy author and horrible parent to my fictional/borrowed characters.


	5. Entry Four: Shiver 4 U

TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains misogynistic males, body regulating, slut shaming, victim blaming, sex worker hating (remember how the last character who dared to do that was put in a coma?), threats of date rape, and a bad ass Witch with a capital you decide what who is not laying down for any of that shit. Reading this may cause intentness hatred towards oppression and result in the urge to hit something.

* * *

><p><strong>Entry Four<br>Shiver 4 U**

When I Am: _this time; the 90's is like a foreign country to me; the natives here dress themselves in rip-away-pants and plaid, the grudge look is _all in range _right now, children live in the wilderness without technology surviving on the _new fad _tongue tattoos._  
>Who Am I: <em>Reg was too busy mapping out the city's back alleys (it's so much smaller than i remember) to cook for me so i tried being hungryannoying/helpful and boiled some veggies but apparently you need a proper strainer for that, long story short it's gonna take a while to repair my wig and the toaster oven.  
><em>How Am I: _i've spent my time thoroughly memorizing every angle of Cameren Electra's ass which is shown on every telly in every dinner in London, no words can explain to you the state of my mind (and sheets (Reg put up some walls around my bed (why did we get a studio flat?))) my crush on her is going out of control, i fear for Reg's sanity, he says i need to be influenced by other media sources, in the city of six-million-and-eight-hundred-thousand where my identity may be compromised and me with only the protection of my good-for-nothing wand, but for his sake: i have to risk it._  
>What Song Am I: <em>so i look in your direction but you pay me no attention do you, and on and on from the moment i wake to the moment i sleep, i'll always be waiting for you so you know how much i need you but you never even see me do you, and is this is my final chance of getting you <em>. . . -Coldplay: Shiver

**The CONFIDENTIAL thoughts of Professor Snape**

His body mercifully sunk to the depths of the claw foot tub, the scorching hot water drowned him bellow the neck washed away all of his suffering from the latest meeting in a mixture of herbal remedies leaving him only with the memories of the last week that stuck to him like dirt, mud in the water.

_~"You know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready, If you are prepared . . ."~_

The Dark Lord had been busy taking out his anger on his followers when he arrived, Lucius who got the blunt of his rage had already screamed himself hoarse, his own punishment for being late was swift. When he rose, under the cover of his Occlumency the ever present part of his mind he kept sorely as his sanctuary to Lily, was concealed along with the contaminated thoughts of her Doppelganger.

He fed the Dark Lord his lies like he wanted to feed him poison, that he had been his most faithful spying on the greatest wizard of their time for the last fourteen years. He allowed himself to be flattered that the most evil wizard of their time bought it.

He had almost forgotten what Crucio felt like.

He did not regret leaving the school grounds to rejoin the Dark Lord, his former Master only three hours after The Rising. He had been planning the day for fourteen years, needless to say it lived up to his expectations._  
><em>_  
><em>He thanked God that most of his old colleagues were locked away in Azkaban, It would be difficult for the Dark Lord to recruit a new employee in the case of his untimely demise, he imagined Albus valued him more than one of his pawns, he would not let him go so easily he was his personal spy after all, a bishop perhaps.

Was he prepared? Was he ready to do whatever it took? Before these questions only ever served to rouse a fury within him for they were unnecessary as his obligation always preceded his individual desire, however in this case they were luckily enough the same thing. He made a promise.

A charmed wash cloth rubbed his skin raw with antibacterial soap as he wondered, What mistake had his friend made to fast, to soon that so ensured the Dark Lord's wrath? No, he had only one friend and she was already dead.

What about Narcissa? Had she been ready to face the very probable reality that this shared torture session with her husband may very well be their last? Had Draco been prepared for what would happen to his family?

He briefly considered telling Albus that no amount of postponement would allow him to be comfortable with this endeavor. But then he prided himself on being respectful, controlled in even the most trying circumstances.

Redemption was not for the weak of mind or body.

He opened his eyes to the white paint peeling off in strips on the walls of his personal stone cold lavatory, to the sound of the dungeons rusty pipes rattle ending his bath of twenty minutes. His moment of peace over he removed himself from the tub. The fluffy green floor mats Albus had knitted for him last Christmas that he had still not thrown away soaked up his watery foot prints as he drained the tub, then turned off the separate glass shower before it overflowed again caused too much of a mess. One of these days he should allow the house elves to fix his pluming.

He opened his medicine cabinet, grabbed a Calming Draught for his nerves, threw back a vial of Pepperup a more immediate antidote for his post Cruciatus state then the _good night's rest_ Poppy had insisted he take, it would be another two hours before he was able to have more Blood-Replenishing Potion, luckily there was no need for Skele-Gro or Bruise-Healing Paste.

He had finished writing a series of Potion Manuals a few years back, all that time spent since editing them, procrastinating over the already perfect recipes, he could be a published author by now. Where was his Slytherin ambition?

He had had fourteen years to be prepared, it was not the fault of any one but himself that he was experiencing second thoughts, however he would not give into the sin of sloth no matter how tempted he may be.

He had taken advantage of his medical insurance after only a week of work at his second job, Poppy had repaired his broken teeth drowned in a mouthful of blood, he had swallowed enough to make him sick, the timing was perfect, he had been meaning to get tested for hepatitis anyway. However there was no use for his new smile as he had already perfected his sneer.

He had not allowed always being skinny for his gender excuse him from keeping in shape through his dutiful practice of muggle dueling although his body had become unhealthy thin due to stress over the years, his shallow skin clung to his bones making the many scars that he hid jut out to form intricate patterns, He could easily still handle his own in a fight, that was what mattered. Could he handle himself against Mulciber if his execution where decided?

He began to dry his hands on the towel that hung parallel to the sink. His large beak like nose that he had inherited from his Father parted the curtains of his thick oily black hair in the process, one of the effects of being a Potions Master, he was always covered in a layer of grease that refused to come off after so many years over the cauldron, a small price to pay though when compared to the medias influence in brain washing the children that would one day became his students to believe that their personal body image was what was truly important, it was all just an economic scam to make people buy things they did not need or really even want with money they did not have: like deep conditioner. Which fed into the low self-esteem of this generation raised by his own, therefore without any proper role models, all of them only ever dressed up to impress someone who would not notice them any other way, skin that was the worlds new currency pity it was worth less than the person it covered. He respected his body enough to take care of himself without giving into vanity, there was no self-respect in the fascist world of fashion. He pitied those that did not feel the same. He threw down the towel and practiced his sneer satisfactorily mirrored in his reflection as he left the bathroom, entering his personal chambers.

He came to a stop in front of his wardrobe when he realized that the time was not proper for his teacher's robes as the school year was mercifully over, or his Death Eater wear which he ironically hid under his copy of a Bible on his bed side table.

His walls were packed with bookshelves that blocked out all the windows that show cased the Black Lake's murky depths, hundreds of texts climbed over the fireplace's mantel it's hot embers of dying flame gave light to another gift from Albus, a Victorian loveseat with two matching arm chairs, wood stained silver and embodied with black leather. On the opposite end of the room was an iron headboard that held up an uncomfortable twin sized mattress its stark white sheets tucked in neatly, huddled next to it was his bedside table on which waited a hot mug of earl grey tea.

When at his office Albus always insisted on adding to much cream or sugar his repeated excuse being: you don't want to burn your throat my dear would seem as if this mug of tea however had come from Dobby who had always taken quite the liking to him from all he times over the years he visited Malfoy Manor, enough to know exactly how he liked his tea.

Lucius. His acquaintance's fate was . . . unfortunate.

A want, no a _need_ to get away rose up inside of him, making his skin itch, He felt restless like a wild thing caged. Even if it were for just a couple hours, to be able to disappear to a place where no one knew him. He resisted the urge to pace the room until only his fingers twitched to betray his inner turmoil.

The thought, the temptation, made him snap until on an uncontrollable whim he found himself reach into the back of his wardrobe to look for something hidden behind a dozen of nearly identical black victorian smocks. Searching for a loop hole, a reason not to go, there was none. Albus had named the new Headquarters earlier that day and naturally he had been required to attend so he could make an eye witness report to the Dark Lord, but now both sides were acting on this information and he would most likely not be needed for hours, no one would even notice he was gone.

He set a box of muggle wear carefully on his bed as it were Longbottom's latest sorry excuse for a potion before he rummaged through the contents.

He should have spent more time with his Mother instead of just visiting her at her townhouse in the city on the summer holidays.

_~" If you are ready, If you are prepared . . ."~_

_'Not yet,' _he thought_ 'Dear God I am not ready yet._

Feeling reckless he pulled the soft white cotton of the sleeveless shirt over his head onto his bare chest, a pair of black jeans soon covered his legs, he slipped on a pair of dress shoes and gripped an old leather jacket. He made his way out the door escaping to the only place he could.

The City of muggle London.

**.**

He exited his way out of his personally least favorite store in all of London: The Forbidden Planet gift bag in hand, searched for an alleyway to disapparate from when the headline of The Guardian caught his eye from a newspaper box on the street:

_British Funder who Donated 700 pounds to the Paralyzed Veterans of America Charity Continues to Remain Anonymous_

He sneered as he bent down to read the article,_ 'Well it seems that someone finally gave those soldiers the respect they deserve for their sacrifices instead of continuing to take them for granted, rising before the sun every day, dealing with copious amounts of disrespect, working for minimum wage to defend their country, all while putting their lives on the line of course, no now after fifty-four years _they_ luckily enough, have been given a _charity_!'_

With his own bitterness suppressed in layers he finished the short article then rose as he saw an all too familiar shade of red before him only to almost jump forward into the street after it, He was certain the Dark Lord's insanity had rubbed off on him but he saw it again move with a crowd of people into a cinema, The Princess Theater to be exact, mainly for children they closed at midnight, you received sweets on sale if you were still below the age of twelve.

He stalked across the traffic filled street car horns blared, tires skidded behind him as he followed her through the door way, she was still unaware to his presence as she paid in cash at the ticket barrier about to give her money over to a boy who looked to be a sixth year but had yet had the proper education to know when it was polite to stop staring.

Gillian Fairchild, their newest celebrity.

Albus' new pet project.

The invisible girl who saw too much.

Completely unaware of his existence in the space behind her, that is of course until he grabbed her hand that held out the cash to cage her small heavily decorated digits between his own calloused eternally-potion-stained fingertips, at which point she became very much aware of his presence.

Vaguely, he noticed the boy repeating "Miss?" Over and over again trying to win back her attention, but she had in her surprise spun around to face him, he noted that they were very much in the same position they had been a week ago.

Her red hair was tied up in what he believed youths called a scrunchie to give him a clear view of her mischievous chocolate brown eyes, somehow darker than he remembered as they stared back into his own.

Finally, the clerk's insistent "Misses" seemed to register as she turned her face away from him, much to his relief, her shoulders were covered by a rainbow scarf that was so vibrant it hurt his eyes just to look paired with a little black dress.

She said a polite, "Yes?" to the clerk.

Who answered back with an innocent "Will your father be joining you to watch the movie tonight?" He looked down at the boy his face a picture of utmost fury as he abruptly let go of the girl's hand.

Gillian however smiled broadly at him, two pairs of straight white teeth gleaming in the theaters light, a perfect toothpaste advertisement smile as she caught the small of his elbow in her own, apparently immune when he turned his glare on her "Yes," she cheered "He will!"

She dragged him past the clerk without paying to the café saying loud enough for the all to hear "Aren't ya coming Daddy? Ya know ya want to buy your baby her sugar."

He knew better than to make a scene in front of the muggles or use his bare hands to strangle the girl for referring to him in such a blatantly suggestive language however he still felt the overwhelming urge, he had cut off the toes of cornish pixies who were less offensive than she was! He focused on breathing calmly in then out as he gave her money still in his hand to the cook to buy her her order from the café, a vegetarian smoothie, but then he remembered that he had the insane idea to go out on an adventure today not packing with him a ready batch of Veritaserum on his person as he would had he been wearing his normal wizarding robes, therefore he could not spike her drink and make her spill all her dirty secrets.

"Can ya use coconut water instead of regular water? And extra avocado please?"

"Sure, any thing else before I mix it up?"

"Surprise me."

Vaguely he recognized the voice, although the cooks face was completely unfamiliar, how long had he been stuck here working at this dead end job? He spoke to Gillian as if he knew her, did she come here often? Either way he must interrogate him later when they were surrounded by less witnesses.

As if to prove this point, at that moment another man entered the washroom smiling when he saw Gillian who dressed as she was could only be described as a testosterone magnet, he took his place at the cash shoving away the cook with a strange glance, then leaned towards Gillian, biceps flexed to the point they threatened to rip the fabric of his wife beater.

He sighed inwardly, not wanting to be associated with Gillian he backed away to avoid getting dragged into what was sure to evolve into an animalistic mating ritual.

"Hey Babe your ass is looking fine tonight," the man said in the most intrusive vocabulary accepted by society.

"Dude I don't need you to tell me that, my entire freaking body looks supper fine every night and hour of the day," the cook smiled encouragingly as he passed her her drink then stood back to watch as she dismissed the other man.

"You know what Babe you got sass I like you, what do you say we hook up later."

"No," she said dependably, her lips tight as if holding back laughter.

"Oh come on Babe you know you want-"

"Shut up."

"But-"

"Shut up."

"Really Babe you're to hot to be one of those freaky lesbian fitness chicks," the man said as he looked at the green liquid and back at her, face scrunched in disgust "Let me tell you a secret us men don't think vegetables are sexy unless you're in our kitchen putting them on our sandwich."

"Oh really?" Gillian spoke her voice as sweet as the poison that coated an assassin's knife "How utterly irrelevant, let me tell you a secret us women don't revolve our whole lives around the unwanted opinions of men, as if I'd ever take advice from some little shit so fucked up on steroids he's hung like a baby carrot, so you can keep your tiny vegetable away from the non-existent cellulite covering my ass which is fit as fuck because I'd never 'hook up' with a misogynistic toerag like you, not when there are so many more fabulous mother fucking human beings out there! And even if there wasn't and I had to be your baby making stay at home wife to save you from blue balls you'd die knowing you never had a chance with me! So why don't you go back to your parents basement and whine about what a disappointment your life is while you wank off, but not while thinking about me, because even in fantasy I am still too good for you!"

"Hey Babe you can quite your bitching, you don't need to act like some carpet munching feminist with me," the man spit, his face dangerously red as he towered above her to grab her forearm "I know you are just looking for someone to take care of you."

Gillian's formerly disturbingly familiar face quickly turned from sweet to sour as she was unable to break the man's grip, He made no move forward but stayed behind her, he wanted to see how she would handle this situation, it was not like she was in any real danger anyway. However he almost wondered if she were about to reveal her true nature as a Veela and turn into a bird-like creatures which was capable of throwing fire.

"So why don't you come back here with me and I can get the cook to mix you up a nice vanilla cream no cherry then we can get to know each other, and if you don't hurt my feelings again I won't even give you a shot of rohypnol to shut your mouth the fuck up!" The man raged saliva flying from his mouth.

In response Gillian suddenly twisted the man's arm to which he squealed, from where he stood he could sense although not see the magic from one of her many rings flow through her hand to the man's skin to paralyze him.

The cook came forward with a kettle to which he proceeded to pour boiling hot water onto them, steam rose from their intertwined arms. The man howled like a neutered dog as Gillian let go to dry her hands with a napkin, clearly she had activated some sort of protective charm sealed within one of those gangly trinkets.

"Fire can not kill a dragon," the cook said approvingly to Gillian, over the man's hulking body vibrating with echoed wines, they shared a pair of knowing smirks. Suddenly the sharp smell of urine filled his nostrils, he sneered as the man utterly destroyed waddled away in tears as fast as his soaked pants could carry him abandoning his place at the counter.

He thought what did that mean? Fire cannot kill a dragon? The fact was true, but Gillian was a human witch were as dragons were magical beasts. Was it a wizard humor? Was this man a squib? He could not sense the muted magic that would identify him as such, he tried to discretely catch the cook's eye but he never glanced his way. Was he just someone who could just not mind his own business? A self-proclaimed savior unable to stand aside as the girl learned a lesson in the price of promiscuity, fixing the problem she herself caused? Or were they friends? There was an air of familiarity, was this an inside joke? Or were they partners in crime?

It was his intention to disappear to a place where no one knew him for a short while. Where no one knew the snarky Potions Master, where no one knew the ex-ex-Death Eater, where no one knew his dirty secret.

A glance behind him confirmed a new crowd of people had formed at the ticket barrier only thirty feet away from them, as he plotted a family of four took their place in line behind him, he was not as stupid to believe he had a chance to abduct the girl in front of so many people in a public place, the dozens of memories he would have to erase, something the Ministry of Magic would surely catch wind of, He was unaware of what weapons she possessed although he wondered where she could possibly hide her wand given the limit space uncovered on her person, the cook did not seem to have any magic although he could not be sure.

His Master wanted another pawn, distinctly he recalled Albus telling him in order to preserve the peace he hoped to build, the ally he hoped to obtain, not to attack her if they were ever to cross paths unless he himself were in immediate danger. You needed allies in war.

"For you, Khaleesi, it's on the house," the cook said handing her back her money with a look of pride on his face as she grabbed her drink, he watched as she strutted away catching a glimpse of her doe shaped eyes.

_~"You remember the shape and colour of Lily Evans' eyes, I am sure?"~_

The Princess Theater closed at midnight.

He stepped forward, the family of four hot on his heels when the cook addressed him "Sir you have no idea how lucky you are to have a chance with a girl like her, don't waste it."

"We are not together," he stated brutally, he had been dragged into enough unwanted declarations of lustful intent tonight because of that bint, were he to be associated with the girl as her paramour he may never recover from the trauma.

"Your loss."

He stalked away after Gillian with a sneer on his face, he would not buy food from such a suspicious person.

He followed her into a dark room were a large television screen was dimly lit behind scarlet curtains, he pulled her to the front most barren row as it was the one closest to the speakers where they were least likely to be over heard. The moment they had taken their seats the curtains were pulled back as the film started showing numerous trailers advertising other films.

"So how are ya doing Professor?" Gillian asked as if she was actually interested, not to mock him, to remind him of the last week, as if when she saw his dark mark, went invisible seemingly without the use of a spell or cloak, then escaped Hogwarts out a window, she did not become a potential threat, as if she did not know too much. Of course she was a child, they were all too ignorant to know how much affect their actions had on society, she spoke as if her mere existence did not turn his entire world upside down.

She watched him patently legs crossed, as he continued to ignore the question he examined her characteristics; indecently short her dress showed off her inner thighs, her legs were covered in stockings to match the eye catching scarf, a girl her age should not wear those shoes. However when he considered what happened to the last man who voiced his opinion of her body he decided it would be safest to keep his own mouth shut regarding the way she portrayed herself, however indecent he considered it to be, lest he wake up one morning to discover himself with a missing appendage.

Lily would have never have worn anything like that.

"I am far more concerned about you Miss. Fairchild, your life must be so stressful as of late, knowing what you do were you truly under the delusion that you could get away from us?"

"Fuck yeah, I can get away from anything, homework, having to pay for shit," her confidence trailed off ". . . Charges of arson."

"But enough about me, I am sure your week was so much more eventful than mine, Mr. Double Agent Death Eater," she glanced at him to read the shock that was not shown on his face "After all this time always so close to Dumbledore, finding ya out wasn't exactly rocket science."

"But yeah you're right about the whole stressful thing," she confessed, he glimpsed a smiley face marked on her tongue mocking him as she sipped her smoothie through a straw "Merlin it's been tough, going into hiding isn't as easy as I remember it to be."

"You're in hiding?" He pressed on irritated by how easily she gave out the information.

"No I'm on vacation," he effectively read her expression to say: get with the program "Yes I'm in hiding, what did ya expect me to do? Goddess next thing I know you will be saying I gave you my real name and not an alias! I'll have you know Professor I'm already on my fifth identity."

He mentally cursed the old fox for always seeing the best in people. It angered him that Albus would give his trust to someone so incompetent that they did not even possess the knowledge of how to keep a secret, someone that spread valuable information like herpes. There was no knowing what she would do to endanger them all, what if she were captured by the Death Eaters during her time of menstruation, compelled by a thirst for drama combined with irrational hormones she turned them over to the Dark Lord in exchange for a box of chocolate?

Well at least her interrogation would be as easy as a piece of cauldron cake.

"Khaleesi?" He inquired "Your true name is Khaleesi is it not?"

"Yeah sure, why not," she decided.

Her name was not Khaleesi.

Music flooded the speakers as their own film began, an animated sun rose above a cracked desert to illuminate the trees that set the scene, in then out credits faded.

Beside him, Gillian, or whatever her real name was spoke "Merlin, I've all ways loved this movie."

He glanced up at the title, The Lion King _'What a Gryffindor name.'_ He thought to himself _'Just my luck,'_ those insolent loins were everywhere always invading his personal space, irritating him in an attempt to ruin his day. He watched as two of the cubs followed a pelican across the screen breaking out into a chorus of: I just can't wait to be king for no apparent reason.

"You know it's amazing the shit ya can get away with when you market a movie to children, those kids back there think when Zazu says: I have never seen a king or beast with quite so little hair that he's revering to the fact that Simba's a lion but mark my words they are going to be seeing things differently when they hit puberty."

Abandoning the pretenses of politeness he grabbed her chin and firmly in his hand, held it in place in front of his face so close that he could feel her hot breath on his jawline. "Whoa! Hold the iPhone there Daddykins, don't think that I am gonna suck your face in the middle of one of my favourite movies just because you got this whole kinda creepy stalker thing going on, you have not worshiped me nearly enough and despite what Players religion tells you girls love a gentlemen who knows how to have a proper conversation," he ignored her voice as he silently sent out a probe of Legilimency not daring to blink as his eyes bore into hers and found . . . nothing.

His search was broken only when someone behind them kicked the back of his seat and shouted in a heavy Texas accent, "By my stars the debauchery! Let's all try keep it rated pg the Lord is watchin and ya'll are not allowed to make out here in his house of theater!"

She pushed herself away from him uncontaminated by his mortification, a complete stranger probably imagined him to be taking out a street walker one who apparently truly had magical skills, he was shocked, frozen, only his mouth moved "You have no mind."

"What? Oh." A secretive smile spread across her face, smug superiority stunk up the air around him.

His heart momentarily stopped, now beat dully in his ears pumping blood at a sloth like pace. _'Dear God what the hell was that?'_ He re-examined the information as his thoughts raced.

The mind is not an open book that could be read at ones leisure, it is an onion wrapped in an unknown number of layers to keep out unwanted guest, he found the best description of its layout to date to be Freud's ice berg theory concerning the unconscious mind. Not everyone is cable of building on their layers but they are always there at least they were supposed to be. Muggles where not even aware that they naturally had mind layers how ever it was a Buddhist tradition to practice mediation which strengthened Occulmency, his skills in Legemency may only be average but even he knew that there was something terribly abnormal about this girl, _there was nothing_, it was as if were her head was there was filled with nothing but air, something he would easily believe were he not a Master of Occulmency and above such foolish superstitions.

He looked at her with open suspicion, he wondered for a fleeting moment if she were human, but no that could not be it either, giants, werewolves, even goblins etcetera, their minds may work differently but they were still there, this . . . he immediately flushed down the drain the idea that this cheeky brat could possibly be a new bread of monster how ever he had not encountered the magic she used to shield her mind before, he needed to gather more dirt. It was clear that she would not give him an answer unless he asked her directly.

"Miss. Fairchild please inform me, did you successfully protect your mind by removing your brain from your body?"

"Oh don't be so foolish Professor, didn't you learn when apprenticing as a Potions Master about human anatomy and bodily functions? Surely you know it's impossible to remove the brain from a human for an extended period of time without killing them? I may be drop dead gorgeous but I am no zombie. That's my mind."

"No Miss. Fairchild," he snarled "It is not."

"Yeah it is!" She shot back "I have a mind you know, I'm not crazy."

He highly doubted this but pushed back the strong urge to contradict her, he knew it would do no good, aside from the natural crazy people did not know they were crazy and where impossible to reason with they also had had minds, she didn't. Apparently, his expression said all this for him as she started talking again.

"My mind is kind of stuck beyond a veil created by another astral plain you see, that's why your Legilimency-" he flinched when she said the word "Won't work on me unless we are both in the same plain, you see? The condition is really not that uncommon and has been found in people both magic and muggle."

He sat in his seat back straight as a ruler to glare at the television screen. He was pleased that he had gotten her to explain herself, yet confused because he had never heard of the condition she talked about, also angered because she revered to his art so bluntly. He had been foolish to use such direct means that opened himself to attack at the same time, he was always in control, if of no one else at least himself. This was all her fault

"Why are you here?"

Again she gave him a look "I told you, I've always loved this movie, duh." Instead of expanding on her true reasons, she seemed to seriously be weighing the pros then cons of weather or not she should get more popcorn or continue to slouch in her chair "You're the one who tagged along with me to watch, why are you here?"

"Miss. Fairchild I with my significant number of brain cells," she opened her mouth "Yes, I know exactly where my brain is located, have come to the apparent conclusion that you are a childishness is not contained surlily within your body but also your mind, how ever I would expect even some one of your age to make the obvious observation: I saw you, I followed you in order to question you, now we are sitting together talking."

"No I meant what are you doing here in the neighborhood? Aside from the total spirit of the moment James Bond impersonation you got going on?"

He looked back at her his trademark sneer "The reasons for why I am here are of no concern of yours! I am a legal adult on holiday, not a teenager with a curfew, along with many responsibilities I also have the right to go where I want!" He retorted, hating teenagers and their cheek more by the second.

"Yeah whatever," she shook him off disregarding absolutely every thing he had said "Did you know that they originally wanted Sean Connery the first James Bond to voice Simba's farther Mufasa?"

"Ms. Fairchild I was unaware of this as my many intellectual interest do not include Disney!" He spat out "Now why are you physically here now taking up space in this theater?"

"Well the Princess Theater's for children so it always plays animated musicals way after their release date. So why don't you like Disney? They're deep."

He sneered at her low class ready to spit fire like a hungarian horntail.

"Is it the age difference and all? Did you first get into Star Trek when you were a kid back in the sixties? I imagine that you related most with Spock? It's completely normal to feel a deep sense of loyalty to your fandom and I get that but you don't have to hate on someone just because they like something different than you."

He froze. "Excuse me? Star Trek? Fandoms? I have no idea what you are going on about."

"Really? Cause from where I am sitting I can discreetly check out the Star Trek vhs tapes in your bag, I am surprised you watch muggle television shows, you don't get electricity at Hogwarts do you?" The bag, how had he completely forgotten he had been holding it all this time? "You know people my age have honed the most fabulous observational skills."

Muggle. She said that word again, his dirty secret, Death Eaters killed muggles. He stopped himself from jerking back from her as she reached for the popcorn bag again which he clenched in his other hand as if it were a lifeline. She knew to much, more than she let on. As of now he himself was in immediate danger. She was a Threat.

"I got the tapes for an acquaintance who I have had little contact with this year," could he handle himself against a girl who Albus had assured him after The Rising in _the tone_ was an ally?

Would Lucius think about what mistake his old acquaintance had made to ensure that the Dark Lord kill him so violently? Calmly he breathed in then out, he had to keep his head during this, he was to close to snapping, to close to making an unmakeable rash decision.

He considered throttling her but dismissed the idea, while it would please him greatly it would not give him answers, There was also still the possibility that she had an accomplice, a partner in crime located just one room over.

"Who are you?" He hissed his voice dangerously low.

"If I told you my real name there would be no point in using an alias in the first place!" She laughed.

She turned her focus back to the television screen as two hyenas talked treason with a male lion.

He came into the possession of a extremely painful migraine when exactly thirty-seven-minutes into the film a group of children broke into wailing sobs all in perfect unison. He could think of several painful means of torture he would willingly subject himself to if meant the chance to get away from this.

"Shit you've missed every thing, okay let me explain to you the beauty of the Lion King," with an exited glint in her eye that did not bode well she prepared to rant "There has been some disagreement in pop culture exactly what story The Lion King is based off of, the producers them selves say that they based it off of Shakespeare's Hamlet, although some people say it more closely follows The Story Of Moses from the Bible and that the talk between Simba and his farther Mufasa is an adaptation of the talk that happened between Moses and God, now I have never read the Bible so I can't say if this is true or not however keep in mind Nala never drowns herself in the watering hole, you don't see Timon and Pumba hanging from Pride Rock, the Zebras never did a play to re-enact the Kings death it was confirmed that off screen Scar had a mistress and was not eating pussy with Simba's Mom. All that shit never happened so it's not exactly like Hamlet either, however this' a children's film and promises a happy ending so take all that with a grain of salt, but in keeping with Shakespeare tradition the sequel coming up is an adaptation of Romeo and Juliet . . ."

His expression turned more murderous than ever as her rant continued but it seemed that she was immune to the glare he had spent years perfecting, one that gave older men nightmares and made first years scream. He would bide his time while trapped within this purgatory she could only stall him for so long, soon he would have answers. But right now he had no choice but to watch the film.**  
><strong>  
>"Thanks for your help."<p>

"Hey where you going?"

"No where."

"Gee he looks blue."

"I'd say brownish gold."

"No, no, no. I mean he's depressed."

"Oh."

"Kid what's eating you?"

"Nothing he's at the top of the food chain! Ha, ha, ha, the food chain! So where you from?"

"Who cares I can't go back."

"Oh you're an outcast, that's great so are we!"

"What you do kid?"

"Something terrible, but I don't want to talk about it."

"Good, we don't want to hear about it."

"Come on Timon, anything we can do?"

"Not unless you can change the past."

"You know kid in times like this my buddy Timon here says: you got to put your behind in your past."

"No, no, no. Amateur. Lie down before you hurt yourself. It's you gotta put your past behind you, look kid bad things happen and you can't do anything about it right?"

"Right."

"Wrong."

"When the world turns it's back on you, you turn your back on the world."

"Well that's not what I was taught."

"Then maybe you need a new lesson, repeat after me: Hakuna Matata."

" Hakuna Matata, it means no worries."

Only at the midnight hour when his suffrage had seemed infinite did the film end. He had managed to drag Gillian out just in time to save himself from being to scarred for life. As he exited the theater not only did he notice the cook was gone but also the cashier from earlier glare at their linked arms enviously, he would do anything to switch places with the boy. He was unable to decided if she had begun singing upon their exit to attract attention thereby making it impossible for him to disapparate off the street with her, or simply to increase his already substantial misery. Regardless of her intention for now she was safe, his ear drums however were not.

"Meticulous planning, tenacity spanning, decades of denial," he could feel his head throbbing as his migraine continued to grow making it extremely hard to think straight "Is simply why I'll be king undisputed, respected, saluted and seen for the wonder I am, yes, my teeth and ambitions are bared, Be prepared!"

He guided her trough crowds of people sticking together in the dark to a street corner as they walked down the pavement, her voice rose octaves higher in time with his wand which he lowered under his sleeve till it touched his finger tips, they passed the street corner their arms still linked, he moved fast as he kicked her ridiculous shoe clad feet out from under her then threw her up against a store's wall, he then stepped in close, any passerby would think he was her lover caught in a ft of passion, breathing heavily a feeling of accomplishment rushed over him as he dug his wand into her side. Shocked she held her hands out above her head helpless the last few notes of that wretched song slipping from her lips "Oh, yes my teeth and ambitions are bared so be prepared . . ."

_'Pity, clearly fame is not every thing. Is it Ms. Fairchild?'_

He let out a howl of rage when six inches of heal were brought down roughly on his toes, he had not even seen it coming, her arms formally held helplessly above her head were now attached to his shoulder blades were they secured themselves like a Veela's claws intent on skinning him alive even through his leather jacket, a blinding pain passed though his forehead as she forcefully attacked his skull with her own rattling his brain he vaguely he realized he had missed the time during which he was meant to take another dose of Blood-Replenishing Potion, he felt faint, he stumbled back as she threw him with her dainty claw like hands back onto the wall ripping his wand away from him she advanced forward till looking up at him she reached above to wrap her hand around his throat her rings cool against his skin, he felt surprised as his body became paralyzed under the cool metal.

"You know what Professor I'd hoped we could've had something here," she sighed mockingly "But alas you fail to live up to my gentalmeny expectations, maybe next time. Till then shut up and listen you might even learn something: I have a message for Albus Dumbledore." What she had was a bargaining chip.

"Now are you going to play nice?" She waited a moment to rub in the point that he was unable to answer before giving him an order "Blink once if yes, twice if no."

His body paralyzed He re-examined the information as his thoughts raced. Asides from assistance in this war what could he personally gain if he were to receive this message? He believed himself to be a bishop on Albus' chess board as was his desire, he was a double agent, a Potions Master, surely Albus valued him more than one of his pawns. However what if he were a pawn? Albus could always get another spy, after all was that not the fate he had planned for Remus Lupin? He had the Order of the Phoenix waiting on his every whim he could easily move one of them into position at Hogwarts to watch over the Potter Boy, Horace Slughorn may be the only other Potions Master in the United Kingdom but he was also an old much more likeable friend of Albus.

What about Gillian Fairchild, their ally? What did she have that he did not? He had spent the last two hours with her, the only substantial thing he had leaned since about Gillian Fairchild was that she was not really Gillian Fairchild. To add salt to the wound he would most likely not learn anything else since, to borrow the phrase, her mind was

stuck beyond a veil.

She knew he was a Death Eater. She knew he had dealings with muggles. Her mere existence defiled the memory of his dead best friend. She put himself in immediate danger.

How ever if this message she had could help him remain in his current position at his Master's side, if this message could assistance them in the war, if it were possibly more valuable then his own possible demises then was it not _his obligation to receive the message?_

What would Lily do?

He blinked.

She abruptly removed her hand from around his neck, he stumbled to regain his balance in the empty street he stood tall despite the fact that all his body wanted was to fall. He refused to show any weakness to the girl in front of him who had his own wand pointed directly to his chest. His expression unimpressed he followed her into a back ally where the street lamps were broken, where only the moonlight shined in the dark places.

He stilled himself in appreciation waiting for her voice.

"Right, the message well tell Albus Dumbledore: I hoped he liked the necklace and if he's willing to accept it I'll send him the matching ring."

Anger washed over him like fire under his skin, like a demon granting to him wishes of violence as if his body were a genie's lamp that had been rubbed the wrong way.

It was just useless information! Dismissing his agreement to play nice he snapped out his hand silently calling to that what was rightfully his, she tried to hold on but his wand flew true from her hand to his own, her eyes widened, did she really believe she was the only one with a trick hidden up her sleeve? No matter.

Without hesitation he silently caste 'Stupefy', the curse shot between them cutting through the darkness like a firework nearly blinding in its intensity, he heard something hit the ground with a thump and was flooded with a sense of accomplishment.

Until he saw that his hex had hit the brick wall opposite him leaving a scorch mark. He bit the inside of his cheek to stop from swearing, such a nasty habit, so instead he tasted the coppery ting of blood on his tongue, not unlike that of fear or anger.

She had done it again, gone invisible, just like that time in the Hospital Wing, because of this he had failed at his chance of catch her, again! To top it all of he had been so blinded by the light of his own curse that he was still unaware of how she accomplished this bit of magic!

Then he heard it, the shuffle of her footsteps as she circled him, a simple 'Lumos' lit up the whole alleyway but still she could not be seen, he whirled around to try to pinpoint them however they did not cause any dirt to arise which made the task somewhat difficult although not impossible, he had spent his life surrounded by Potters after all.

"Oh Professor," her voice taunted him closer now "Personal opinion, you look positively yummy in that leather jacket."

Enraged he started throwing curses up and down the alleyway at random 'Expulso,' 'Reducto,' 'Confringo,' her ghostly laughter mocked him as he continued to miss, he did not stop till well after he knew she was allready gone.

**Draco Malfoy Heir to The Manor of Malevolence**

He ordered the elf to fetch yet another book for him from the towering shelves of the maze like library, he snapped angrily at the elf when it took too long, useless, he was determined to master at least another three spells before dawn and the elf's inefficacy was not helping matters at all. Neither were the high pitched screams that echoed endlessly from the dungeons through the marble halls of the manor, so not cool.

The elf finally found him the book he needed as his Father's screams died out, he bit his lip to resist the urge to waste time and hit the ugly wrinkled old thing in front of him as they started up again, the elf obviously sensing he was in immediate danger scampered off, probably to clean the toilets or something else equally useless.

He banged his fist down on the table as he could still more clearly than necessary distinguish his Father's voice from his screams.

"No, please no, Master I beg of you have mercy, I promise you I will not mess up again! Just please leave my family alone! Take me, take me instead!" Another set of nightmarish cries followed this request raising the little hairs on the back of his neck.

Really, why couldn't the house elves just be more efficient and epically burn this place to the ground? Why did they waste their efforts with their uselessly cleaning this Manor of Malevolence?

He could not begin to comprehend what his Father was going through, chained, a prisoner in his own dungeons while his wife was forced to watch the Dark Lord 'Crucio' him relentlessly, all because of a stupid book that he gave to the stupid Weasley girl three years ago. He didn't know, nor did he want to, so he shoved away the stupid useless pity that welled up inside him to the back of his mind.

He bent down and concentrated on memorizing another spell, because that was all he could do, learn another spell, if only he could somehow gain the Dark Lord's trust enough to get closer. One day though he would be better, he would grow stronger.

If only there was some way to change the inevitable, a new variable thrown into the equation enabling him to protect his family. Some way to flip the stakes, make the Dark Lord bow before _him _and scream.

In the distance the bastard laughed, it was a high manic laugh, he was cretin that if he listened any longer the sound would drive him insane. He had given Potter the only warning he could and now it was time to help himself, after all: Gryffindor knights in golden armor where not required to save pure-bloods, Slytherins, dark magic users, the children of Death Eaters and especially not Malfoys, it just wasn't in the job description, unlike the characteristics; brave, chivalrous, hot headed, and good. So he blocked it out and worked on memorizing another spell.

**till next time, xoxo  
>Black Lily<strong>

1) I am aware of the fact that Carmen Electra did not join Baywatch until 1997 but I don't care, she was also a guest judge in season eight of So You Think You Can Dance, on a personal note she endorses the Carmen Electra Strip Pole which I own and if you do to I highly recommend you get a handyman to instal it. On a separate but kinda related note check out the **Harry Potter Pole Dance!** by: **lethalblonde0911** on youtube.

2) 6,800,000 people where roughly estimated to be living in London in the year 1995 and 7,825,200 as of 2013.

3) _"But you didn't return when he came back, you didn't fly back to him at once when you felt the dark mark burn-" "Correct I returned two hours later. I returned on Dumbledore's orders."_ Is a conversation from The Half-Blood Prince chapter two Spinner's End between Bellatrix and Snape, however I wrote; _He did not regret leaving the school grounds to rejoin the Dark Lord, his former Master only three hours after The Rising. _I wanted to make it clear that already Lily's arrival in their time was causing ripple effects, but It latter occurred to me that this was such a small clue that it may be over looked so I thought I would point it out.

4) Before you go all ape shit on me about how it is totally out of character for Snape to wear a leather jacket I would like to show to you a quote from the Deathly Hallows chapter thirty-three The Prince's Tale: _His black hair was overlong and his clothes were so mismatched that it looked deliberate: too short jeans, a shabby overlarge _leather coat_ that might have belonged to a grown man, an old smock like shirt.  
><em>  
>5) The Forbidden Planet is not only a real store in London but also the largest to deal with fandom merchandise and movies.<br>Star Trek first came to earth in 1966 and stayed till 1969, since then Star Trek has made this planet it's home after many repeat visits for which we are all very grateful. During the time we know Severus Snape and his family to have been living in a muggle village most likely with a television. Make of this what you will cough- headcanon -cough.

6) 700 British pounds = 1128 United States Dollars = 1178 Canadian Dollars

7) _Gillian Fairchild, their newest celebrity. / Pity, clearly fame is not every thing. Is it Ms. Fairchild?_ Is a reverence to The Sorcerer's Stone chapter eight The Potion's Master.

8) The Lion King was released on June 24 of 1994 it was also the most watched movie in 1995 and may or may not have still been playing in theatres a year after it's release date. The first Harry Potter fanfic I ever read was The White Rose Curse by: Snape's Cat in which a character sang show tunes from this movie. This chapter was very much inspired by that story, it can be found at: ** www . sevysgal SC / WRC10 . html**

If you are interested in reading me rage about my writing blocks and rant about my head canons for this fanfic then follow the hashtag **#The Memorial of a Black Lily** on tumblr.  
>Under this hashtag I will give a very through and well deserved explanation informing you why every one's favorite Potions Master is such a misogynistic, body regulating, slut shaming, victim blaming, sex worker hating, ball of shit with a ruler-longer-than-his-no-fun-zone stuck up his ass. This will also be explained over time in the story so if you don't want an spoilers then don't follow the hashtag. The short non-spoiler version of the explanation is: He Is A Flawed and Narrow Minded Individual Who Is Going To Get His Ass Handed To Him Repeatedly Because Of His Douchebag Actions until He Learns His Mother Fucking Lesson.<br>Also as you may have noticed I have switched my pen name, again, I know I am so fickle, hopefully this was the last time though, I am now know on the internet as iamalittleLeStrange . . . or you can just call me Miss. LeStrange. Man decision making is so hard.  
>I would like to say for a fact that I am not Christian although I have read some cliffnotes of the Bible, I was actually convinced for two years that I was a witch (for absolutely no reason even remotely related to religion) during a dark time when I was slipping out of my Harry Potter lifestyle into a Charmed phase, dark times. However I came to the realization that accidentally setting the apartment on fire did not mean I could really do magic, this made me very sad, my Mom not so much.<p> 


	6. Entry Five: Thee Webs We Weaved

**Entry Five  
><strong>**Thee Webs We Weaved**

When I Am: _just got back from my almost-not-really-a-date with H.I.M. which failed to live up to my expectations, however given the context of my situation they may have been just a touch unrealistic. Also i gave Reg his seventh thank you for teaming up with me against that douche bag who got way to date rapey.  
><em>Where Am I: _and now i'm at my flat, lying in my bed hyperventilating, after our first real almost-date. I can't wait till next time.  
><em>What Song I Am: _t__he untold stories are painted in black and white i can hear the footsteps that follow to my pulse this paranoia has haunted me like a ghost, oh the webs i weave i am caught in this game my passions dead the life i've lead has drowned me in vain . . . _-Escape The Fate: The Webs We Weave

**In Thee Mind of Him!**

The golden sands ate away the fledeling before Him and for a fleeting moment when her eyes; wide with fright, comically magnified by her tears transformed, her black pupil enlarging to conceal the milk chocolate iris. Just for a moment He was able to empathize with her, was able to feel the conflicting feelings that she hid from the world, she had just lost her parents after all, He was told it was a very traumatizing experience. He probably would almost feel sorry for her if it not for the fact that He knew she would certainly torture and attempt to murder Him if she was aware of the fact, Almost.

He did not care to examine them for in a flash of brown they were gone He did not worry about them either, He knew in time as she grew the would come back.

He watched as the whirlwind of sand consumed her hourglass figure and fell to the ground as a golden mist that crept over the earth devouring everything in its wake.

He vanished his cloak when the sands got to close, is if it could wrap Him within Her endless pattern of repetition, the power of numbers no matter how large could never reach infinity. Needles to say He expected the memory of this day would echo through His' mind as if it where the present for awhile yet.

Prowling about the side of the freeway without the confines of His' cloak to bind Him He was able to flex His' back, delicate bones sprouted from His' shoulder blades the blood all ready disintegrating from beneath his plumage by the time they spanned out to their full length of twenty-one zerets. With a beat of the air that did nothing to blow away the sand, He kicked off taking to the sky.

He looked down as He rose above the wrecked vehicle, the flames had already disappeared to fuel a greater power but the bodies in side were only beginning to be touched. The sand consumed them snaking under and over their clothes and pouring into their mouths.

He wondered how she would have reacted had she seen what was happening to the world, her beloved prison, but He could not care less. He soon grew bored of watching Harry Potter and his wife Ginny nee Weasley being devoured by the sands of time so He glided over the tree lined freeway and made His way back to the city.

London was only beginning to be effected, here the golden sands touched the buildings like falling snow, He watched as humans bellow Him just creased to exist.

He closed His' eyes and listened, _'Septem, Hexa, Quinque,'_ all around Him the wind and the sands worked their magic, _'Quattuor,'_ She had done well, _'Tr__ibus, Duo,_' that sister of His, _'Unum!'_ A single bell rang in the distance like an explosion so deafening it was silent to their ears, he saw the sand rise up in clouds taking over every thing vanishing buildings, bridges, London, before the whole Earth went black.

Just like that it was as if this event and the last twenty eight years had never happened, the world could have just ended and no one would even know. Except for His' one poor Cherry Bomb, such a tragedy.

He did not awaken to the steady clunking of wheels on tracks and a moving mass of bodies as one would expect given the location He knew Himself to be in, but to a timeless darkness that suffocated Him, nothing happened for He was unaware of how long till He felt a shocking pain shoot up His' leg, not broken, as if she had fallen then been caught. It would seem as if she had finally arrived at her destination.

Had He been any one else given their similar situations He would probably feel the same way as she did right now, emotionally that is, they were both suddenly taken from one place and dropped into the unknown with only a bare warning. However He was not anyone else, and so the situation bored Him to death.

His own body was numb past the point where He couldn't feel anything His' limbs much less where He was, yet there it was; in the distance the smell of disinfectant and medical supplies that burned the nose mixed with fresh air, instinct made her uneasy, made blood pump rapidly through the veins swelling the finger tips and making them tingle in warning, nervousness.

_He_ couldn't smell anything.

The connection from their brief time together was fading now but still He could feel the onslaught of several emotions; surprise, disbelief, hope, fear all covering a heightened under a layer of love and lust. He grinned animalistically to himself, humans were so much fun.

Fear, fear, fear, it sent ones blood pumping wildly the screams could barely be heard over the pounding of the blood in the eardrums fear, fight or flight it was the nature of the beast.

It was very faint now, like a thousand fingers softly caressing His' body, in reality it probably felt as if someone was cutting her up in a thousand places repeatedly deeper every time, glass maybe? Then He felt an unbelievable pain again in His' legs again. He basked in her agony.

For a dancer she was so terribly clumsy on her feet; getting pushed down stair cases, jumping out of windows, diving off bridges, tripping over her heals. Dancer, anti-hero, what was it that attracted her to such dangerous professions? He could hear her in the back of His' mind even though His ears heard nothing she was biting back a scream and silently sobbing, oh sweet ecstasy, how He longed to spend the rest of existence just _feeling_. But as time continued around Him the connection disappeared and He went back to embracing the nothingness.

**The following events are as witnessed by double agent: Severus Snape**

He stalked up the Griffin staircase to Albus' office, only after he had finished changing out of those clothes of course, it was demeaning enough being seen once in such attire and he was not looking forward to reliving the brief moment of insanity.

He knew what Gillian Fairchild told him was just mad ramblings to throw him off guard before she made her escape however it was also proper etiquette that he inform Albus of his contact with the girl, this past week had been hard on the man since the Dark Lord's rising, he would never admit that he was concerned about him, and the strain it put on his dwindling collection of pepper up potions.

Albus had in fact been acting odder than usual all week, as of now it had been a total of seventy-eight hours since he was last been manipulated into accepting too sweet tea or lemon drops, he had even passed up the chance to call him before he gave the Griffin staircase the password like he usually did, always adding to the mysterious demeanour he seemed so fond of.

He arrived at the top of the staircase his robes billowing powerfully behind him as he stopped abruptly hiding behind the doorway to Albus' office at the sight that greeted him.

Albus was sitting hunched over his desk as was the usual at any given time of the day or night, his half-moon glasses askew and his crooked nose nearly touched the heavy oak. What threw him was the look that marred the wrinkles of his face, several emotions combined to create a bitter sweet sadness. He gave Albus a minute to collect himself from what was clearly a very personal moment but it never happened. That was when he noticed the golden chain his leader stroked as if it were something of precious value.

He felt a fleeting tightness in his throat as his mouth went dry. Attached to the golden chain was a locket, some might even call it a necklace. With out moving forward to address the situation he turned on his heel and marched down the staircase to the dungeons in cold fury.

He quickly came to the conclusion that that wretched girl was obviously right, how he despised her, he should have finished her off in that alleyway when he had the chance peace treaty be damned, that manipulative selfish bint! He could not remember feeling a loathing this intense since the Potter Boy gave him cheek in their first class together combined with the crushing realization that he would see that sick parody of Lily every day till the day he died, juvenile as she was she had played him. After all it was her who had given him the message for Albus clearly knowing he had no knowledge of necklaces, rings or other such inferior trinkets of any sort. It was a slap in the face, after all, as of now he had been serving Albus for sixteen years in which he had given up everything to become a spy, Dumbledore's favourite Death Eater that knew him, that trusted him all though apparently was not trusted.

He threw open the kitchen doors and the house elves forever faithful ran towards him like a flock of sheep eager to please, he told the herd to get him something to drink, he would need something strong to wash away the taste of betrayal.

**till next time, xoxo  
>Black Lily<strong>

1) He whose name will go unwritten for awhile yet is a cannon character! And yes there is a reason for why His pronouns are CAPITALIZED it's not just bad grammar, really it's not.  
>I will accept guesses for who He is and if you get it right before His secret identity is revealed I will gift you with a metaphorical one wish only genie in a bottle and I being my wonderful self will grant your wish sometime latter in the story, or I'll just write you a one-shot or something if it messes with the plot. However the terms and conditions of this binding contract are you have to write me a short essay on the following: A) who the mystery cannon character is B) why you think this C) what cannon information from the books and movies you have to back this up.<p>

2) I would like to say for a fact that I am not catholic although I have read some of the Bible, I actually spent two years as a wicca during my Charmed phase until I realized the time I set our apartment on fire wasn't because I could really do magic, this made me very sad, my Mom not so much.  
>My point is the measurement conversion that took place in this chapter (<em>their full length of twenty-one zerets<em>)were based off of the internet and myself alone: one span or zeret is three palms, for me that is nine inches. Nine multiplied by twenty-one and then divided by twelve equals a wingspan that is rounded up to sixteen feet.

3) _'__Septem, Hexa, Quinque,' all around Him the wind and the sands worked their magic, 'Quattuor' She had done well, 'Tribus, Duo,' that sister of His, 'Unum!' _The words in this quote are Latin, the language that most spells in the Harry Potter universe are based on and they translates into: seven, six, five, four, three, two, and one in that order.

I was lazing about the other day listening to the Stripaculous podcast for March of two-thousand-and-thirteen when I found out the most wonderfully magical thing: there is a porn star out there, and her name is Lilly Evans! I don't know why she spells her name LILLY instead of LILY maybe this is all just a big cosmic joke and she isn't really a die hard Potterhead or hopefully she was just looking to avoid a copyright law suit, the former way I think she might just be my soulmate. Go to twitter so you can see what I am talking about, her user name is: **LillyEvans_  
><strong>On a sex worker related note I myself made my big debut this valentines day morning (the year 2014, February 13th from midnight till oneish on the 14th ) as an exotic dancer and after stripping off all of my clothing I won second place in an amateur contest, I was going to celebrate this life changing moment by piercing my own ear but my nail broke and I was unable to remove my good earrings, so I am posting this short chapter instead.


	7. Entry Six: R U Numb yet?

**Entry Six  
>R U Numb yet?<strong>_  
><em>

Who Am I: _hey you know that chick who is always at the gym and only eats _protein bars_ and vegetable smoothies and you would think that just because she looks so petite she can't dead lift one-hundred-and-fifty pounds? Well that's me crushing the patriarchy between my thighs.  
><em>Where Am I: _except I am not really at the gym I haven't left the flat since I ran into H.I.M. but Keacher sneaks out to visit me when he can and he like fixed up everything so the place makes a half decent seven-hundred-square-foot home gym, closet bedroom, kitchenette, bathroom._  
>What Song Am I:<em> don't know how to be who you want me to be feeling so faithless lost under the surface i don't know what you're expecting of me put under the pressure of walking in your shoes, i've become so numb i can't feel you there become so tired so much more aware, holding too tightly afraid to lose control . . .<em> -Linkin Park: Numb

**How many snap's can a Snape snap before he snaps?**

The next day, he thankfully exited the Order meeting. It had been excruciatingly slow to the point that he thanked God for helping him escape the too loud voices that made his temples throb under assault by the blinding light of the kitchen hearth. He used the banister to support himself as he climbed up the stairs, he wondered for what felt like the hundredth time what could have possible convinced him to get so piss drunk the night before that he had barley been able to remember his name this morning.

He ignored the world spinning around him as he made his way up the stairs with only a slight sway, with no one around to notice, he could only imagine the humiliation Black would put him through if he found him when as of this morning he was without the defense of his razor sharp wit. He opened the door to the drawing room and collapsed on the first inanimate object he found as he tried to remember last night's indecent . . .

_'Onions, onions, it had been something to do with onions, the mind is like an onion, perhaps I had started the night off at a Mexican restaurant? Yes I can just picture it now, the big onion in the sky with it's numerous rings rotating, no that was Forbidden Planet I had landed there in the__ USS Enterprise . . .' _What? That was preposterous, he had gone there to fetch her her vhs tapes_ 'When, ah yes it is coming back to me now I encountered Gillian Fairchild last night, except that isn't her name, who is she?_

_Our newest celebrity, our newest celebrity._

_I hate her._

_Stop that, you always get tied up in your emotions and let them control you when you get drunk to the point where you can't remember what you did the next morning, how are you supposed to own up to your actions when you have no memory of what it is, for the sake of your pride think!_

_Singing, I remember singing, for the love God I hope it was not me, oh this is no good, all this information is so useless, useless, useless just useless, now how am I supposed tell Albus the message?' _He stopped to think about it for a moment, _'I have to tell Albus something? Well, why didn't I tell him before I got piss drunk? _

_Message, message, the message of the story was that the baby lion was meant to be king, born to do something important but could not because he was abused by his uncle, no wait that was the plot, or was the plot the usurper was fornicating with his mistress, the natural event of which is they had a child who grew up abused and groomed to overtake the throne by those he thought to be the light? No she said that was the sequel . . . I swear to God I shall never drink again,_' he thought.

Moaning softly to himself he burrowed his head into the leather of the chair. Was it an chair? Maybe it was a couch . . . _'It is a leather something, I look good in leather, no I looked ugly, mark me, mark me, mark me, but I remember someone once saying I looked yummy, but it might have been a vampire, probably tried to eat me . . .'_

Just then Albus walked into the room, he looked up at the man dazed as he slouched in his something as he watched the movements of the crazier man's robes as he walked.

"Albus, just the man I wanted to talk to," he spoke, not noticing his voice was an octave higher than usual. When the older man looked up at him surprised. There was a special word for old crazy people who when winter came an old one would kill off the runt and feed it to the young so the pack would survive, no that was a fox, senile, yes that was the word he was looking for, "Yes, I wanted to talk to you about, about clothes, yes we should get you more clothes," he babbled as the other man watched him amused.

"Well my boy, if you ever want to accompany me with my shopping you know you are more than welcome."

"Shut up Albus. Why would I want to talk to you about clothes?" he didn't even know anything about clothes, they were so stupid, buttons, zippers, different quality linens he had his friend Lucius custom make his clothes he would not be seeing his friend Lucius anymore for awhile did that make them acquaintances? He sneered. Albus was trying to manipulate him again so he could fail and get some one else to do it better, Black would love to go shopping with Albus, senile old fox.

"Are you all right my boy? You seem a bit, well . . . drunk." He scoffed. Of course, he was all right. He was always all right. What were the different stages of all right? I am good what about you? I am alright, you? Great. Okay. Go to hell. I am fine.

"I am fine Albus. I need to talk to you about your clothes," he stopped abruptly, no, no he didn't, he didn't want to talk to Albus about his clothes, why couldn't he get it right?

The elder man neared him, reaching inside his pocket undoubtedly for one of those damnable lemon drops. Their chemical composition was a secret the other sherbet lemons did not know about.

"Here my boy, perhaps this well help you clear your head."

"I don't want it. I don't need your stupid candy Albus," he grumbled, but despite himself took what ever was offered to him.

Immediately after he swallowed the sweet, he felt his head stop to throb allowing him to think clearly. Last night was still a blur near the end, but he felt more in control to say the least, "I required that," he admitted as he sat up straight in the black leather recliner.

"Now what is it you wanted to talk to me about my boy?" Albus said.

They both silently agreed to ignore the fact that Albus had borne witness to his self-inflicted humiliation which in other cults would be required to be given up freely as blackmail.

Now that he was no longer under the influence of his own stupidity he could see through the fog of his hazed memories through his hangover to remember the night before. Feeling like an abandoned puppy, he spoke without his trademark sneer, "I have reason to believe that she is hidden in muggle London."

Albus raised a fine silver eyebrow, "She as in Gillian Fairchild I presume?"

"If that were her real name, yes," the older man took a seat across from him and gestured for him to go on, "I was walking down a street in muggle London-" The man in front of him was the only one who knew he occasionally ventured out into the muggle world and even owned some property there "-When I saw her she was going into a muggle movie theater, I took the initiative to follow her."

He decided it was best to be vague on the next part, the daddy incident nor the occurrence of sexual harassment was not something he was looking forward to reliving, the first time traumatized him enough "I was requested to join her and I thought it would be best not to make a scene so I accepted, during the movie The Lion King she admitted that the name Gillian Fairchild was in fact an alias."

He briefly considered what he was going to say under the disguise of the liquid courage he no longer had left, "Albus, how you can put so much faith in that child? She is much too lenient with giving out information!" A twitch in his knee that could not be seen beneath his billowing robes betrayed the anxiety he was feeling.

Albus smiled amused. "Were you able to get any information out of her?"

"No," he said bitterly when he thought back to all the things that she had found out about him, "But she spoke of the movie although it was an old release, however she said she went there often which leads me to believe she had been in the area for a while." There had to be some lose ends back at the theater, the cook, the cook had known something no one just pulled a white knight to protect someone they did not know, he would go back to the theater to integrate him till he found some piece of information.

Albus nodded thinking this over, this knowledge could help narrow down her location after all, it deserved to be thought about. Khaleesi was it her real name? Was it a title? It sounded exotic perhaps it was a class title of a different race, like a Queen in the muggle British monarchy.

"After the movie was finished we got away from the crowds, I was readying to stun her and bring her in for questioning when," -we got into a fight where she used a hidden weapon to disarm me- "she told me something," he thought back replaying the message in his head to make sure he did not forget anything.

"What was it?" Albus questioned, his humoring smile suddenly gone.

"A message. A message she wanted delivered to you."

"Recite it." Albus ordered.

"I have a message for Albus Dumbledore," word for word they slithered off the tip of his tongue, "Tell him, I hoped he liked the necklace and if he were willing to accept it I will send him the matching ring. She disappeared before the stunning charm hit her," he finished thinking back, he had not discovered anything to do with a locket when he tried and failed to look into her mind that night.

Another thing he would not be talking about, he would be practically worthless as a spy after all if even one of his Masters found out he was having trouble with his Legilimency. For the first time that day he looked Albus in the eye, those damn twinkling blue eyes, "Do you know anything about a locker she spoke of?"

However, Albus didn't say anything but while he was looking into his eyes he thought back to that day at the Hospital Wing, Albus had been standing behind him, looking into the girl's eyes. Would he have tried to get into her mind? Yes, No, it wouldn't have worked. Why had Albus not told him that?

Was the locket that she supposedly gave him, the reason he trusted her? It would have had to be in the past week, when the older man had started to act odder. Suddenly, just like that he started to remember why he had gotten so drunk the night before.

**Act 6 Scene 2, introducing: Hermione Granger**

She locomoted after the pink haired teenybopper through the garden and up the front steps of a rather medieval looking house and glared down the black painted door with the gleaming silver serpent. The pink haired woman, Tonks as she named herself, was an actual real life Metamorphosis! Tonks had informed her this as they had disapparated away from her home after saying a lengthy good bye to her parents earlier that dawn.

She had done research on Metamorphosis last year as a side project when she was too deeply buried in her obsession of discovering everything she could about Veela and it was a quite fascinating distraction.

Born Metamorphosis; they could change their appearance at will and occasionally a rare few, their gender! There were not a lot of studies to understand why exactly this happened and in her seven months of searching she had not found any interviews with Metamorphosis discussing how they felt about the subject but she knew a little bit about split personalities having it been one of her theories for Harry's dreams, which in its self was a very interesting topic and pretty much the same thing! To become a Metamorphosis, was a very long term procedure, it had to be done on a preferably not yet mature witch or wizard over a course of years so that their bodies got used to it and stated to adapt naturally. For the first few years, the change was done through potions every day like taking vitamins and then the people would start using spells to transfigure themselves so that their magic would become attuned. Over time, it was supposed to come naturally . . .

She was distracted by her thoughts when Tonks took out her wand and tapped the knocker; this action was followed by opening sounds produced by well-oiled locks on the opposite side of the threshold. As soon as it opened the two girls disappeared inside and shut it behind them along with whatever the danger the open streets carried.

"Who else is here?" She questioned eagerly having discovered how talkative Tonks was however quietly as to not awaken the sleeping portraits in the hallway one of which was covered in dramatic green curtains, or to get Tonks to pay too much attention to her super information hustling skills and not give her an answer.

"Sirius of course. It's his house you know? Thank Merlin I was always afraid as a kid that I would have to inherent it."

"Oh, are you related?"

"Cousins."

"That's fascinating what about Sirius' friend? Have they spoken in a while?"

She happily started babbling, "Remus, oh yeah he's an interesting fellow isn't he?"

"Oh absolutely he's a great teacher."

"Oh yeah right totally, but can you imagine what it's like going through what he does every month? I mean for me changing always just came naturally because it's just a part of who I am but for him, he's really brave you know? Funny to, in a jokes-that-our-farther-makes kind of way, and only here once and a while mind you, he's with the other wolf packs most of the time."

"That is to bad, Sirius must be so lonely here all alone."

"Oh he isn't, there is Shacklebolt, you might have heard of him. He's recently been working with the muggle prime minister. Mundungus, I don't even want to think about him. Mad-Eye, ever since he got back from Hogwarts, he's been more paranoid than ever as if that were possible, he'll probably try to question you when you meet him for real this time. They should have all have just gotten out of the meeting."

They exited the hall way and her voice grew louder, "Severus just got new information from Vold- Voldemort about-" she stuttered when she said the name then stopped suddenly and changed the topic as they climbed the stairs to stop on a landing apparently realizing she had said too much.

"And of course-" There was a loud crack behind her. Hermione jumped when she felt two pair of arms slung over her shoulder.

"Fred and George Weasley are staying here full time," said George as he slipped off the sleeve of her coat with the arm that wasn't holding her in place.

"Ready to answer your every beck and call," said Fred as he worked on her other sleeve.

"I can take off my coat by myself thank you very much!" She said turning with an exasperated look on her face to the two mischievous red heads towering over her with their pale blue eyes and devil like grins. Tonks was forgotten in the face of these two nightmares as she walked up the stairs with a wistful sigh rolling her eyes.

Fred's smile widened showing off the dimple on his left cheek, "Of course we have no doubt that you are perfectly able at taking off your own clothes Hermione."

George continued the face of innocence, while hers went up in flames, "We just feel we could give you the proper assistance."

She inhaled deeply to stop from spontaneously combusting as they attacked her with what she believed to be sexually defined as double innuendos.

_'I swear this duo get's more peculiar every year, do they have to be so . . . hard to handle?' _In the comfort of her own mind she laughed at the pun.

Then she was hit by a sudden burst of inspiration and she smiled an equally wicked smile, "You know what boys, I think you are the ones wearing to many clothes," she said, her voice husky with the strain to keep from laughing as she started walking backwards up the stairs almost tripping over her own feet nodding for them to follow, which they did dumbfound walking into the trap she had planned so well even the would have to appreciate it.

She stopped on the third landing and put her hands behind her back reaching into her jeans pocket to rub the anti-apparition oil onto her linear units, she had found the recipe in a biography written by a pair of magical parents who's adult child refused to move out and take responsibility, it was exceedingly temporary unlike some of the recipes she could have found in the Restricted Section, but she had prepared in case of something like this. She leaned closer to the twins, batted her eyelashes almost going cross-eyed as she tried to keep a frequency, and then struck as quick as a snake with the palms of her hands.

Caught off guard, they stumbled back on the railing and before they could catch their balance, she darted forward and grabbed their robes that they were so proud of wearing now that they were at the age of proper Wizards. She used a quick series of knots that her farther had taught her on their last camping trip to the Forest of Dean before pushing them over the staircase.

She realized as she watched them fall that maybe this was not the most ethical approach to handle their unwanted albeit infuriatingly amusing continuous flirtations. She was on the third floor landing, the average height of one floor in a house today was eight feet, however when you took into account that this was a rich pureblood's Victorian style renewal these assumptions where out of context. But if she counted the stairs from one landing to the next, fifteen, she estimated the amount of space from where she was standing to the main floor to be forty-five feet.

To be fair she had yet to hear them hit the ground.

And they were Fred and George Weasly after all.

They were Wizards, they could do magic.

They were probably fine.

Panicked she ran all the way down the stairs and gazed frightened, relived, and then triumphantly at her work, the two boys were hung upside down by their ankles. Their robes were used as rope and they wore nothing but faded jeans that to their embarrassment were being pulled further down to reveal matching trails of red hair that led to the waist and of two identical pairs of smiley faced boxers.

They shared a secretive look and she blushed when she realized they had caught her staring, aside from the possible medical repercussions this did not seem as such a good idea . . . she laughed to cover up how nervous she was on the inside, "I know you guys wanted to get your clothes off for me but you didn't have to fall all over your selves doing it," playing on the situational irony as she matched them pun for pun.

It would be best to just leave them there she thought to herself as she walked back up the stairs having determined they were not falling any where, and trying not to think about how their eyes burned a hole in the back of her head as she moved. Even worse, how she had tried and failed to not glance at the creamy skin of their chest covered by a smarter of freckles that started from the shoulders and traveled down their lean bodies, she tried not to think about thinking about it from anything more than a anestheticly appreciative stance as she went to find Ron. But she did.

**.**

She had thought that finding Ron would be easy but he was not in the kitchen and neither was the Order, also she had failed to take into account the sheer size of the house. It was so big that it deserved its own zip code and she had not found anyone else to point her in the right direction either. It was unknown if this was because they had all left after the meeting or because the house was just that gigantic. It was very well decorated too, despite almost everything being in various shades of green and dark brown. She recognized a lot of the furniture from the Victorian era, all in very good condition.

She was passing by the second floor when she heard what sounded like Professor Snape having a conversation with Headmaster Dumbledore, even though she was not one to eavesdrop out side of the exceptional adventure she stopped as suddenly as if she had been petrified, again, and she strained all her senses to hear what they were saying.

"She can't be trusted!" She as in a female who the Headmaster knew: Professor McGonagall, Madame Rosemerta, Madame Maxime . . . intrigued she stood even stiller if that were possible while with one third of her brain she continued to list, with another she considered the fact that she had hardly ever heard the Potions Master shout before, to hear him raising his voice or lower it to a deathly whisper was common but to hear him shout was almost unheard of. And with the third she did what she was good at, paying attention.

"My boy she is someone we cannot afford to lose whether she can be trusted or not," said the Headmaster his tone sharper than a Basilisk's fang after flossing.

"You saw her face Albus, it's not a coincidence!"

"Why don't we talk about what you are really thinking Severus?" her mind's eye supplied Headmaster Dumbledore with his folded fingers sucking on a lemon drop notebook and pen in hand while he urged Professor Snape to lay down on a Psychiatrist couch and talk about his feelings.

How did she hear the Potions Master take a deep breath before he spoke his voice tightly controlled? "I know they are connected Albus, isn't that enough reason to be weary?"

"And what my boy, are you going to do about it?"

Someone started pacing on the other side of the door and she stopped briefly to wonder why she could hear it so clearly, the two men inside that room were both very experienced and were clearly having a private conversation outside of the Order meetings so why hadn't they thought to put up silencing charms?

"I'll track down any information I can find about the Evan's, about the cook, about Khaleesi, mark my words I will discover how they are connected and then move from there . . ."

For the first time she noticed something she had not seen before because even though it had been there it had not allowed it's self to be seen, as it was there was now someone else at the door, a House Elf whose hunched back came up to her knees and was so unbelievable wrinkly that even paradoxically it's wrinkles had wrinkles. It's long bat like ears stuck out of it's head and she could see the hair growing in them and over it's hooked nose was a pair of pale blue eyes the circumference of tennis balls, but what grabbed her attention most was what it was doing with it's hands.

They were held up against the door and made the very wood seem to pulse, she had a sudden understanding as to why she could hear the voices so clearly despite the silencing charm they had undoubtedly put up, she had always said that House Elves were stronger than they were made out to be and one day the magics would pay for not showing them the respect they deserved.

The Elf gazed at her intently as if he didn't know what to say or was fighting an internal struggle before conquering it's doubts, "Would you like some tea Miss?" It spoke the words slowly as if it were afraid it was going to trip over it's own tongue and say something wrong. Hermione nodded not daring to speak lest the people on the other side of the door find her out and she had the feeling that they wouldn't be too thrilled with her.

She followed the Elf, barley registering the clicking sound of something heavy hidden in the it's lion cloth. For a moment she forgot about Ron, wanting nothing more than a hot herbal tea to soothe her nerves and to find out what the Elf's views on S.P.E.W would be as they walked back down the maze of hallways.

"What's your name?" She asked and for a moment, she wondered if she would get an answer but then he said, "My name is Keacher Miss."

**till next time, xoxo  
>Black Lily<strong>

1) Puppies, dogs, wolves, foxes and any animals in the canine family when seen through Snape's P.V.O. Are a recurring metaphor, three guesses what they represent. Also the information about foxes may or may not be actuate but either way I pulled it out of my ass.

2) The USS Enterprise is a Star Trek thing. Also it's going to be a back story thing. Same with Khaleesi from Game of Thrones, different things for different characters.

3) When Hermione was rambling on and on about Metamorphosis who could change their gender she meant trans gendered people. The way she defined it is not at all the way trans gender characters will be written in the story but rather the way they are perceived by the wizarding world giving you a basis of the stigma they are up against and (spoiler) will overcome during the course of the story. There will be multiple non-cis characters throughout the story two of which will be main.  
>Hint: one of the characters is a non-white student who's gender was never specified in the books.<p>

4) The Golden Trio never saw a House Elf during their first four years at Hogwarts and even if they did all their cleaning at night when they did most of their sneaking around which leads me to believe that they have a: House Elves should clean and not be seen policy, backed up by what I just said this leads me to believe they are capable of doing invisibility charms, strong powerful charms if you take into consideration how easily Doddy was able to knock Lucius Malfoy on his ass In The Chamber of Secrets.  
>In the books while Hermione did fight for 'the freedom of House Elves' she went about it in an extremely racist way where instead of asking for their opinions she invalidated them by saying they were brainwashed and did not know what was best for them which she used to justify forcing them to take clothes and 'free' themselves.<br>However since we know for a cannon fact that Hermione went on to work with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and I am following the cannon timeline I am going to assume that Hermione matured between the ages of fourteen and thirty-nine and that character growth will be showed in this fanfic.


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